The thing behind the door.

The scratching behind the wall is getting louder. I cannot sleep and dare not go into the kitchen to eat. The noise seems to be a very real thing, like a presence. It has only been a few hours but it feels longer.

I wake in the middle of the night. There is no scratching, just long heavy breathing..
It is next to me, I can’t see, the room is too dark but there is something, some thing at my bedside.
I cannot even call out, there is no time. A cold dry hand touches mine.
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