Ema had always been a rational girl, the type who didn’t believe in things like ghosts or spirits. But that night, in the quiet of her room, everything changed.
It started with the lights. They flickered, as they often did in old houses, but this time it felt different. The flicker wasn’t just a random malfunction—it had a rhythm, like someone was controlling it, trying to catch her attention. Ema shrugged it off at first, thinking it was just a problem with the wiring. She’d gotten used to little quirks like this in the old house her family had recently moved into.
But then she felt it—an eerie, weighty presence. It was as if someone was standing just behind her, watching her every move. Ema turned quickly, expecting to see her little brother or her mom, but the room was empty. Her heartbeat quickened. The feeling of being watched didn’t go away. It lingered, hovering just at the edge of her consciousness, like a cold breath against the back of her neck.
The lights flickered again, this time more violently, as if something—*someone*—was trying to make contact. The air grew thick, charged with something she couldn’t explain. Her pulse quickened, and her skin prickled, goosebumps running up her arms. She sat up straighter in her chair, eyes darting around the room, scanning for any sign of life—or any sign of something *else*.
It was then that she saw it: a shadow in the corner of the room, barely visible at first, but growing clearer by the second. It was a figure, standing tall and unmoving, its edges flickering in and out of existence like the lights themselves. Her breath caught in her throat. The shadow felt wrong—too dark, too *empty*, as if it was trying to fill the space with something that wasn’t supposed to be there.
"Who's there?" Ema whispered, her voice trembling.
No answer. The figure didn’t move, but its presence grew stronger, more oppressive. The lights above her flickered again—brighter this time—and then went out completely. The room plunged into darkness.
A cold breeze swept across the room, brushing against her face. Ema’s heart hammered in her chest as she strained her eyes, trying to see through the thick blackness. She could still feel the gaze, a sharp, piercing stare that seemed to penetrate her very soul. It was suffocating.
Suddenly, she heard a soft whisper, too quiet to understand. It sounded like a voice—faint and distant, but right next to her ear. "Ema…"
Her breath caught, and she gasped, backing away from the corner where the shadow stood. But before she could move any further, the air grew colder, the temperature dropping so quickly that her teeth began to chatter. The voice came again, clearer this time, echoing in her mind rather than her ears.
"Come closer…"
The words were hypnotic, a siren call that made her want to obey. But Ema’s instincts screamed at her to run. She pushed herself to her feet, her legs unsteady, and backed toward the door. But as she did, the lights flickered back on, blindingly bright, then dimmed to an eerie, sickly glow.
And then, the figure moved.
It didn’t walk. It *slithered*, crawling across the floor with unnatural speed, its shape shifting, stretching impossibly long. Ema froze, unable to move, as the shadow reached her. It was no longer just a shape—it was something else, something *alive*. A black mist swirled around her, cold and suffocating, and she felt her heart race, pounding in her chest.
Suddenly, the room seemed to spin. The temperature dropped further, and a sharp pain shot through her temples. Ema staggered, clutching her head as a scream tore from her throat. She fell to her knees, the room spinning in dizzying circles.
And then, the most horrific sensation of all—something wet. Something thick and warm dripping down her face. She wiped at her eyes, her fingers trembling as she pulled them away. The blood.
It wasn’t just blood. It was… tears. Bloody tears, flowing relentlessly from her eyes, staining her cheeks, dripping to the floor beneath her. Her vision blurred, and she could no longer see through the crimson haze.
The whisper came again, louder now, almost triumphant. "You belong to me now."
Ema screamed, but the sound was drowned by the whisper, the world around her closing in, suffocating her with every breath. She could feel herself slipping, losing control, the shadow engulfing her, claiming her as its own.
And then, the darkness took her.
When they found her the next morning, Ema was lying motionless on the floor, her eyes wide open, but completely empty. The blood had stopped flowing, but the marks of the tears remained, forever etched on her skin.
The house was quiet again, but it wasn’t empty. Not anymore.
