Whispers that come in the night often carry further than those in the day.

They’ll whisper to each other in the shadows, eyes flickering in the moon’s midnight light.

You listen with open ears and eyes, using your ears since the night is dark, blinding your other senses.

You feel around for something to hold, something to steady yourself in the black void you’ve fallen into.

But nothing comes. Nothing to grab, to hold. You’ve gone cold, searching for something. Anything.

Everyone knows the feeling when something chuckles into the darkness, laughing at your weak attempts.

“You’re weak,” it says.

And you believe it. Because things that crawl in the night don’t lie. They’re just as real as the things you see and hear in the day.