Although I couldn’t see, something told me that I definitely wasn’t alone in the cellar. It wasn’t that I could see it, but more that I could feel it. It started slowly at first. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. And I felt the frenetic energy of anxiety, a need to act. But I didn’t know how to act or why I felt that way. I couldn’t see a threat in the dark.

As I tried to maneuver my way around the dark room to look for a door or a light switch I felt it for the first time. The feeling of being watched. The feeling of eyes on you when you move. My breath came faster, shorter. I felt my feet stumble, nerves overtaking me as I searched for a way out.

I thought I heard something. Shuffling of feet that weren’t mine. Ragged breathing that didn’t belong to me. Was that a growl?

And then there was the smell. Subtle at first. Just a little unsettling. And then stronger. The smell of something old. The smell of something metallic. Blood. Decay. My stomach flipped.

I clenched my eyes closed, sending out a silent plea for help. Scuffling of feet as I stood still. Claws sliding across the floor. An exhale of something foul, breath across my face.

I let out a scream just before I felt the pain. Claws slashing though clothes. Teeth gliding through flesh. A wet squelch before I knew I would be contributing to the fear down here, to the smell. I would be a new set of eyes to watch from the dark.