It was the middle of the night, pitch black. I get up from bed, needing to use the restroom, but the light switch in my room doesn’t work and a tall lanky figure is looming in the corner, just out of my peripheral vision, staring. Their eyes are the brightest thing in the room, illuminated by the glow of the moon breaking through my window’s shades.
I move to my grandmother’s room to see if she knows why the light switch isn’t working, and she claims that it broke earlier that day. As I stand behind her, looking over her shoulder as she sits at the computer, I feel a cold hand cuff around my neck and hear a scream.