The world had grown quiet. Too quiet. Jim’s mind wandered, slipping in and out of a fog he couldn’t control. At first, there was only darkness. Then, the whispers. They came from the corners of his room, soft and curling, like smoke. They spoke of sleep—of peace.
But there was no peace. Not for him. He had seen the walls move, shift, breathe. His body was tethered to this world, yet his soul had been lured elsewhere, into a place far colder.
A cold wind swept through his mind, slithering through memories he had locked away. Faces of people he knew, but not quite. Their eyes… their eyes were empty. Hollow. They reached for him, but he couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
Was it death? No, not yet. It was something worse—something he couldn’t name. The sleep he had been promised was just a veil. A trick. The wall was thin, but he could feel it. He could feel them on the other side. Watching. Waiting.
„Why do you torment me?“ he whispered to the silence, his voice a crack.
The wind didn’t answer.
He wasn’t sure what was real anymore. The whispers, the faces, the cold… It all swirled together in a maddening dance. He closed his eyes, hoping for rest, but sleep never came. Only the walls. Only the whispers.
Tomorrow, he would wake. Maybe. Maybe not.
