It’s 5 AM Again

At 5 AM, the witching hour, I yearned for your presence, but the street-lamp outside only cast macabre, elongated shadows that danced like demons across the room, reminiscent of those nights when we delved into the darkest recesses of the human soul until dawn cracked. The silence, thicker than the ink-black night, was shattered by the mournful cries of the wind, a chilling symphony.

I shifted restlessly in the empty bed, gripped by an unyielding sense of dread, an unmistakable intuition that an unholy, ancient malevolence was lurking.

As I battled to surrender both body and mind to the sleep, a sinister, nearly imperceptible whisper reached my ears. This unearthly voice originated from the deepest, darkest corner of the room. My heart pounded like a funeral drum as I jolted upright, anxiously scanning the impenetrable shadows. No physical presence revealed itself. I dismissed it as the product of my tormented mind, a fleeting illusion, as I struggled to cling to the embrace of sleep.

Terror ensnared me as I realized the absolute solitude of the room, and yet that strange voice, undoubtedly yours ,was emerging from the very spot where you liked to sit.

Clutching the bedcovers, I gasped for air, each breath a jagged shard of my fraying sanity. “Who are you?” I stammered, my voice trembling in the face of mortal fear.

The voice inched closer, an unnatural presence by my side, an icy, deathly breath brushing against my ear, a clammy hand caressing my cheek. “I’m with you,” it whispered, intimately malevolent. “I have never departed.”

I recoiled in absolute horror, ensnared by the ghastly specter, unable to wrench my gaze away. “No, this cannot be real,” I muttered, gripping my phone with white-knuckled desperation.

As I tried to dial for help, the room twisted and contorted around me, the very walls closing in, the voice whispering my deepest fears and darkest secrets, imprisoning me in a nightmarish frame. Escape was a mirage. My hands were not responding to my commands .

With the very first rays of dawn, salvation finally pierced the window. The terrifying specter of you unraveled like ethereal smoke. As the room reverted to its mundane, I was left breathless, it was my first ever panic attack and i hated it .

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *