FEAR

You step into the room, and everything stops. No sound. No breath. Not even your heartbeat. The air thickens—like you’re drowning in silence. Then it appears. Not walking. Not crawling. Just… existing where it wasn’t a moment before. Pure fear. It doesn’t move toward you, but the walls bend away from it, as if afraid. Your knees shake—not from fear, but from the memory of fear. The kind you felt as a child when you were sure something was under your bed… only now, it’s real. You try to scream, but the sound doesn’t come from your mouth—it comes from somewhere behind you. You turn. There’s nothing.