┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐

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[ Note : This story is not entirely based on my own life but there are some moments that are (specially those black veiled beings) ]

They say there are things that live in the corners of our minds-beings that drift between thoughts, unseen, but always there.

Legends speak of the Wraith, an ancient presence, not bound by life or death, but something in-between. It doesn't walk in the world we know; it lingers in the space where thoughts collide, in dreams where logic crumbles, and in the quiet, forgotten parts of ourselves.

The Wraith feeds not on flesh, but on fear, on sorrow-emotions buried deep within. It has no form, no face, but it leaves a trace, a scent that crawls into the mind and stays. Damp earth. Decaying leaves. Cold metal. And a sweetness too strong to be real. Those who have sensed it are never the same, haunted by memories they never had.

And yet, no one truly knows where it came from-or what it wants.

But one thing is certain: once you've felt its presence, you are never alone again.

---

August 8th, 2007.

The night was still, unnaturally so, as if the world itself was holding its breath. In a small town nestled between the dense forests of Oregon, a child was born under a sky heavy with clouds, no stars in sight. The hospital room felt colder than it should have been, a chill seeping through the walls, unnoticed by anyone present.

Evelyn Cole came into the world with a soft cry, but something else stirred in the air, something darker, unseen. As her parents cradled their newborn, a faint scent crept into the room-a blend of damp earth, decaying leaves, and something metallic, almost sweet. It was fleeting, gone before anyone could name it, yet lingering in the corners of the room like an unwelcome guest.

Outside, the trees whispered, their branches twisting in the windless night. Somewhere, deep in the collective shadows of the town, something watched. Something ancient, waiting.

No one in the quiet town of Willows Creek could have known that this birth, so ordinary in appearance, had set something in motion-something that had been sleeping for centuries.

The Wraith had stirred.

WRAITH | sunovellas Where stories live. Discover now