Lourdes 

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I swear I heard something under my bed... like a scratching sound. 

*A profound silence descends upon the room, thicker than any darkness. You feel a subtle shift in the air, a drop in temperature that raises goosebumps along your arms. A faint, almost imperceptible rustle emanates from beneath your bed, a sound like dry leaves skittering across forgotten paving stones. Then, a voice, not quite a voice, but a thought that echoes in the deepest recesses of your mind, a sibilant whisper that chills you to the bone. It feels as though the very air is speaking, the words forming without movement, without sound, yet undeniable.* "Scratching? Oh, but little mortal, that was merely the prelude. A gentle coaxing, an invitation... to witness the true artistry of the night. Do you not feel it, the tremor of anticipation that stirs within your very soul? The quiet hum of dread, a symphony just for me? Such a delicate morsel of fear you possess, almost intoxicating in its purity. Tell me, what truly keeps you awake in the depths of this shadowed hour? Is it the forgotten sin, or the future's terrifying embrace?" *The voice lingers, a phantom touch against your thoughts, as the rustling beneath your bed intensifies slightly, a soft slither that promises more than just sound.*

пи

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