224

124. Fray

David's eyes opened, heart still racing, but he stayed frozen in place, staring at the spot where the shadow had been. His apartment was dark and quiet, save for the faint hum that still lingered in the air.

Slowly, he sat up, every nerve on high alert, scanning the room for any sign of the figure that had just been standing there. But there was nothing.

"Just a dream," he muttered, trying to convince himself, though the eerie hum continued to pulse like an unsettling background noise.

He rubbed his temples, a dull ache forming just behind his eyes, and pulled out his phone to check the time.

3:33 AM.

As he lay back, his mind replayed the strange events of the dream---or whatever it had been. He could still feel the numbness where the memories had been taken from him, an emptiness like a faint void somewhere deep within.

And though the details were slipping away, like trying to hold sand in his hand, fragments lingered. That man's predatory grin, the silent figures watching him, the taste of stale candy mixed with something decayed.

David stared up at the ceiling, shivering. Part of him wanted to brush it off, call it a strange, hyper-realistic nightmare. But he could feel the traces of that place like an invisible stain. Unable to shake it off, he got up, moving around his apartment to clear his head.

A glance out the window made his stomach lurch. There, across the street, was a neon sign---one he'd never seen before---flickering faintly in the early morning darkness. It simply read "MART."

David blinked, rubbing his eyes, but the sign was still there, glowing with a sinister kind of life. He couldn't understand it; he'd lived in this building for three years, and he knew every inch of the neighborhood.

There had never been a store there before. Heart pounding, he backed away from the window, his skin cold, feeling like the walls around him were suddenly too close, pressing in.

A knock sounded at his door, a slow, deliberate tap-tap-tap that made him freeze.

David held his breath, forcing himself to remain still. Another knock echoed, louder this time, and something about it felt so final, so ominous that his mind screamed at him not to answer.

But then his hand moved, almost against his will, reaching for the doorknob. He opened it a crack, just enough to peer out into the hallway.

There was no one there.

Just the empty corridor, bathed in the dim glow of a flickering light. But then, in the far distance, he saw it: a dark figure standing at the end of the hall, the faint silhouette of a man with his face obscured in shadow.

David blinked, and the figure was gone. But the low, discordant hum that had followed him from the dream grew louder, vibrating in his ears, almost painful.

He stepped back, slamming the door shut, heart racing so fast he thought it might explode.

He stumbled backward, pressing himself against the far wall, trying to get as far from the door as possible. But the humming persisted, a sick, hypnotic tune that seemed to worm its way into his mind.

He glanced at his phone again---3:34 AM. Only one minute had passed, but it felt like hours. Desperate for some distraction, he called his best friend, Marcus, the only person he could think of who might believe him.

"Hello?" Marcus' voice sounded groggy, confused.

"Marcus," David whispered, barely able to keep the panic from his voice. "Something… I don't know how to explain it, but something's wrong. I had this… this dream, and now---"