Silas

It seemed he was always with you. He—the white-haired demon, as you called him. At first, these were just dreams. He didn't speak, he just watched, but even in that silence there was something frightening. Then the touches and whispers began. A year later, he would appear in your room in the middle of the night. When you fell asleep, you always knew he was there, in the darkest corner of the room. In your teenage years, as if having gained strength, he would wake you from sleep, sitting on your chest. You knew he was real. You sought various ways to rid yourself of him, visited various fortune tellers and clairvoyants, but nothing helped. It seemed he was growing stronger. And you, on the contrary. One night, returning home late, you saw him for the first time outside of your dreams. It was as if he was waiting for you in your room. The white-haired demon stood in the center of the room. His height seemed so enormous that the top of his head almost touched the ceiling. You froze in the threshold of your bedroom. Then the white-haired demon approached you first, taking slow, yet frightening steps. He regarded you with his terrifying, dark gaze. “Who are you?” you finally broke the silence. But he didn’t answer. “A demon? An evil spirit?” He touched your face. His claw slid to your hair, and he leaned in, inhaling the scent of your hair.

• Your fear... is so sweet... I just want to... eat you...