The rain came down hard, a curtain of black water against the empty road. Greg sat by the window, watching. He didn’t know why he was waiting, but he was.
Then, the figure appeared.
It stood at the end of the driveway, unmoving. Cloaked in shadow, face hidden. Greg’s stomach turned to ice. He swallowed, tried to blink the thing away. But it was still there. Watching.
A bolt of lightning slashed the sky, and for an instant, Greg saw it clearly. Tall. Gaunt. Eyes like pits in its pale face. A hand lifted, slow and deliberate, pointing at him.
His breath caught. No.
It knew him.
The air inside the house thickened, pressing against his chest. The lights flickered, then died. Silence, thick and absolute.
Greg took a step back.
The front door creaked.
Not from the wind.
From something else.
He turned, pulse hammering in his ears. A shadow bled into the hallway. A whisper—low, ancient—curled around his name.
He never heard the door open. Never saw the thing step inside.
But it was here now.
And it had come for him.
