Kaida

The whistle persisted, a thin, jagged sound that tore through my sanity. Tears streamed down my face, my muscles strung tight with a primal visceral fear. I huddled into the corner of my room, trying to hide from a chill that felt less like cold and more like a physical invasion.

It was no ordinary draft; it was them.

I could sense their presence, perceiving their jagged silhouettes through a blurry, infrared haze.

Every night they returned, haunting the periphery of my vision ...