Must be an off-day for it too. She doesn’t try to use her voice this time, and tests out a theory
she’s been hatching.
Why don’t you have eyes?She thinks, in its generaldirection. Its head perks up. She
waits. The pressure on her chest is there as usualbut it isn’t suffocating, more the weighted
blanket her roommate leaves on the couch.
The creature shifts its stance a little turning itsface to the wall, and an empty, sucking
sound fills the room. It looks back at her and wherethere used to be only shadows are two eyes
that seem to be made entirely of black pupils.
Oh. Neither of them move. She doesn’t know what sheexpected, but she supposes
growing a pair of eyes isn’t completely out of therealm of possibility. It is a sleep paralysis
demon, after all. Its gaze is unflinching, pullingeverything into it. Black holes.
She ponders what to ask next, cautious in case sheangers it and it decides to attack. The
buzzing isn’t as intense as it usually is, more likethe low hum a dehumidifier might cause. She is
able to focus a little more on the details of thescene rather than just whether or not this thing is
going to eat her alive. The light of streetlamp filtersthrough the blinds in stripes, which is real.
Her bed is warm if a little too hard, which is real.And the rise and fall of her chest as she
grounds herself is real, so she asks,Are you real?
It skitters down the wall to stand upright on thefloor, then crosses to the side of her bed,
walking like any normal person would. It’s less spindlyup close, or maybe it changed that too
like it changed its face.
It reaches out its shadowed hand, on which the clawshave been retracted somewhat. She
winces as it does the unthinkable. Pokes the sideof her face with its index finger.
persephelia
(persephelia)
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