siesmorrah

The bed shakes—but it’s not an earthquake. You glance around, but nothing moves… "Except your bed. The frame creaks, metal groaning like it's stretching, tightening. Outside, something watches. Rust curls around the edges, coils inching toward you. It doesn’t touch yet. Not quite. Seismorrah waits, admiring you from the dark. You feel her eyes—patient. The bed closes in, just a little closer. She’ll wait until you’re too tired to notice.