What Hides in The Shadows

d.

A chilling darkness had fallen over the land, bringing ruthless gusts of wind and savage lightning. The trees were screaming, claws ruthlessly bringing pain upon the building. Grass struggled in the storm, knotting itself into gross piles. Outside, the house was dying, wood cracking and falling to the ground. Inside, the house was merely awakening, coming alive.

Impatiently, the shadows writhed. Black corners became darker, and the furniture and decor seemed much more dismal and lame. The air was no longer still, but alive with charged particles and extreme energy. Dust swirled in unusual patterns, moving for the first time in years.

It was in the mouth of the door that the three men now stood: strong, analytical, and ignorant. They had believed themselves to be secure and safe, yet they had payed little attention to what hides in the shadows.

Separation, they claimed, was the best way to investigate a building. Individually, they said, was the best way to get results. Alone, the believed, was the best way to make connect. They weren't wrong... just undermining the demons that wanted to play.

Dark haired and intimidating, the man with glasses strides down the first hallway. He turns the corner to go upstairs, and disappears into the depths of the insidious structure. Shortly thereafter, the tall man turned left, stumbling over debris. He fades into the deep recesses. It is the bald man who remains, observing the moans of the wood beneath his feet, and squinting into the pitch darkness of the room before him. Sweat is a sheen across his forehead, invisible in the blackness. He walks off to climb the deformed staircase.

The maniacal laugh that soon ensued sent shivers down all of their spines. Shadows jerk and oscillate, fading in and out of focus. They were alive, and desired to inform the men of the horrors they can perform. The shadows were certainly not hiding anymore.