Well, here we are, alone."

"

The internet, as always, wouldn't let go. With a yawn tearing my throat, I scrolled through the now-familiar lines and glanced at the clock almost every second, which was desperately approaching morning, but for some reason I didn't feel like sleeping. I continued to surf the World Wide Web, searching for even a hint of something fresh and interesting, but apparently the Internet itself was hinting that it was time for sleep.

Finding nothing worthy of my attention, I, as always, left the stereo playing random tracks overnight and settled back on the pillow. Twitching endlessly and adjusting the blanket, I finally began to drift off. Something howled, banged, and rustled outside the window... Shouts, music, and clanking could be heard beyond the walls. In a house with walls like ours, this wasn't surprising. I seemed to be enjoying these sounds through a light drowsiness and continued to drift deeper into sleep, feeling my body go numb.

Suddenly, the room door opened slightly. I thought it was the cat, because I felt a slight pressure on my legs. I opened my eyes briefly, as happens when half asleep, and then closed them immediately. I don't remember how much time passed, but it seemed like a couple of minutes later I cracked open my eyes and saw that the bathroom light was on (even though I live alone and always turn off all the lights at night). Shifting my gaze slightly above the bed, I saw a shadow crawling there. Before I could focus my gaze on it, I noticed movement behind the door (it's worth mentioning here that the door to my room has glass in the middle). A shadowy creature, as tall as the ceiling, with a strange red appendage just below the back of its head, was slowly moving from the bathroom into the hallway. I couldn't see its face, but its neck was so large it was physically incapable of supporting its head. And he was sliding his head along the ceiling, leaving a dark, smoking trail.

Suddenly he disappeared, and my attention was again drawn to a shadow just above my bed. It began to crawl up my legs. For the first few seconds (they seemed like an eternity), I watched it cling to the blanket, climbing, and suddenly I saw a pale, angry face. It creaked, "Well, now we're alone," and with the agility of a snake, it lunged at me. I screamed, jumped back against the headboard, hit the back of my head against the wall, and... everything was gone.

The door to the room was ajar, the bathroom light was on. And the music I'd left playing overnight had stopped.