Fear The Night Site

Not through the windows, not through the cracks in the foundation, but through the soft, unguarded places behind her eyes. The places where sleep lived. Or was supposed to.

A long silence. Then, pressed directly against the wood of the door, as if the thing outside had laid its cheek against the grain: Fear the Night

She could hold her breath. She’d done it before—minutes at a time, until her lungs burned and stars burst behind her eyes. But the mist was patient. It always waited. Not through the windows, not through the cracks