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My closet door slowly creaks open and out slips the monster that has terrorized me for the past week.

It slowly crawls on the floor, extending its twisted, broken limbs one at a time. In the twilight, I can make out its naked, pale, translucent body twitching with blood pressure.

I think it believes I am asleep as it makes no attempt to silence its labored breathing. I can hear its saliva drip to the floor as it takes ragged deep breaths thick with mucus. It draws near my bed now, and I feel its hand grab onto the mattress as it attempts to pull itself up from the floor.

I examine the hand in paralyzed horror, taking in every detail. It resembles a human hand on the most basic level, but it only has three fingers, each of them bony and twisted. The nails are hardened and thick; they have the wretched smell of blood meal on them.

Its face suddenly jolts into view, and I quickly shut my eyes. I saw its face, though. Its nose is grossly elongated, and it is missing the lower half of its jaw. Its head is too tall for its face. Veins run through the entirety of its pale face, pumping dark red blood.

In the artificial darkness behind my eyes, I try to pretend it’s not there, but I can feel its wet breath on my face. I listen to its breathing for what felt like an hour. It suddenly stops. I cautiously open my eyes, expecting the welcoming sight of an empty room. The thing is an inch from my face, staring at me with its black soulless eyes. It attempts to form a sentence. I cringe as I hear it garble.

“Glad you’re awake. We're going to have so much fun.”