There’s something after him. He can feel it. Breathing on his neck, whispering in his ear.
It’s after him.
Something evil. It wants to consume him.
No one else seems to notice.
It’s a typical party that most people feel uncomfortable at. One of those where everyone sits and talks, holding their glasses of wine and you feel more comfortable with your beer standing in the kitchen having a decent conversation that doesn’t deal with color schemes or floral print dresses.
Sports, books, movies, girls…
Everyone just keeps on talking. But he can here it, pacing back and forth outside. It’s breath fogging up the window. Is it a dog?
He thinks he sees it.
It looks like it could be a dog. Some kind of hellhoud come to tear him to pieces in front of all of his friends.
Are they really his friends? He’s talking to some of them, but he can’t seem to recall their faces or their names.
He can’t remember how he got there or even who he came with.
He needs to escape.
“Man, I fucking love scary movies. Not those slasher bloodfest movies. Those really fucking scary movies, like possessions and demons and shit. The things you can’t kill. Like those monsters we all thought were under our beds and in our closets.
He mumbles some sort of reply. Something like- yeah, I like those too.
Something throws itself against the window. No one moves. Didn’t anyone hear that?
He moves from the table, heart pounding.
“Hey, man, where you going? Bathrooms the other way.” A roar of laughter.
It wasn’t that funny, he thinks.
“I thought I heard something outside. Just going to have a look…”
“Aw, you’re just hearing things. Sit back down and have another drink. You’re just paranoid from all the beer.”
“Beer doesn’t making you paranoid, dumbass.” They start to play fight at the table.
“It sounds like something is at the door…”
he gets up from the table, leaving the two possible friends of his to punch each others arms.
His heart pounds in his throat, his stomach fights to crawl out of him.