In the quiet, the corners twist

and bend,

shadows creep like smoke,

too slow to catch,

too fast to trust.

I feel them—

figures that don’t belong,

half-seen at the edge of my vision,

too solid to be tricks,

too strange to be anything,

but something other.

The light flickers,

and they’re there again,

just beyond reach.

I hold my breath,

but the room feels smaller now

the air thicker,

as if the walls themselves are

watching

waiting

for me to blink.

Is it a whisper?

A sigh?

The weight of something heavy,

a presence that doesn’t speak

but presses on the back of my skull,

making my thoughts

flicker and scatter

like embers.

I try to turn

but my feet won’t move,

as if they’ve, too, have seen

what I’m afraid to face.

A shifting form,

a hand that wasn’t there

now reaching,

or maybe I imagined it.

I look away,

and the space behind me

remains thick,

dense with all the things

that can’t be understood,

too far to touch

but always so close

I can’t help

but feel their cold breath

on my neck.