NUMINOUS | Harry Styles

SEVEN

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

The gust of wind outside Vera's place howled through the night as she settled into bed. The sound was a familiar one for late fall, the wind rustling through the leaves and causing the tree branches to sway and creak. Yet tonight, it felt different—an unsettling edge to the usual autumn weather.

Vera felt off.

Vera tugged her blankets tighter around her shoulders, trying to ward off the chill that seemed to seep through the thin walls of her bedroom.

For the past couple of nights she hadn't been able to properly sleep. It could be due to many things like her habit of scrolling through her phone late into the night, the blue light a constant assault on her already weary eyes. And then there was the faulty heater, a persistent reminder of the season's cold grip.

The heater had been on the fritz for days, its feeble attempts at warmth proving futile against the encroaching cold. She had piled on more blankets than she could count, but still, the cold seemed to cling to her bones, making sleep elusive.

But even those were not enough to explain the gnawing discomfort that kept her tossing and turning.

The truth was, she couldn't quite pinpoint the reason for her sleeplessness. It wasn't just the physical discomfort but a creeping unease that seemed to settle over her each night. The wind outside sounded like more than just a natural phenomenon—it seemed to carry with it a sense of movement, as if something—or someone—was stirring just beyond her window.

Leaves crunched beneath the wind's breath, and Vera could almost imagine someone stealthily stepping through the yard, though she knew it was probably just the trees at play. Still, she couldn't shake the eerie feeling that she was being watched. The sensation was almost palpable, sending shivers down her spine.

One particularly restless night, her anxiety reached a peak. Driven by a mix of curiosity and a need to confront her fears, she peeked through the curtain, half-expecting to see nothing but the darkened street. Instead, her eyes were caught by a fleeting glimpse of something unsettling—an indistinct, glowing shape that vanished almost before she could be sure she had seen it.

The sight was so swift and strange that she couldn't be certain what it was. Her heart pounded in her chest as she hastily shut the curtains and retreated to the farthest corner of her room, away from the window.

Despite her efforts to rationalize the experience, the feeling of being watched lingered.

Vera rolled over in bed, her mind racing through the possibilities of what could be causing her unrest. She tried to focus on the mundane—checking her phone, adjusting her pillows—but the persistent feeling of eyes on her remained.

But then again she's been told countless times by her own mother, that she has a wild imagination. So she tries to think nothing of it. It was probably just her sleep deprived mind playing tricks on her.

﹌﹌

The next morning, Vera's eyes felt as if they were weighted down. Each blink seemed to take more effort than the last, her vision blurring at the edges as she struggled to stay awake. It was a slow day at the bookstore, a fact she was silently grateful for.

The quiet hum of the heater, the soft rustling of pages, and the muted light filtering through the windows—all of it combined into a lullaby that made it nearly impossible for her to keep her eyes open.