The thing in the dark dank basement calls out my name. Shadows curl, dip, and change with the rumbling wind and moon beam light.
I dare not think or say it’s name. It wants me to go and see it. Feed it with my fear. Let it draw blood.
“You’re dead. Stay dead. Call me not again.”
But it does call. Many times. The hallway is a sliding shuffling groaning sound.
A door opens. But not my bedroom door. A scream. Then muffled. Then nothing. I’m next.