I was never a firm believer of the supernatural. I always thought that whatever lurks in the shadows is nothing but shadows. I believe that people have a hyperactive imagination, that whatever figure we see in the dark, however scary it may be, it's all metaphysical. Our brain is wired to distinguish foreign objects, to connect the missing dots, that's how images of monsters came to be. I've never believed in the Tooth Fairy, nor Unicorns, even Santa Claus, why would I believe in Vampires, or Werewolves? I know there's nothing hiding in the darkness, I'm sure of it.
Until one summer I came back to my motherland to visit my grandmother…
Her house is old, and big, and whenever I visit her, I always end up picking one particular room. That room is located at the second level of the house, where the windows show the extravagance of her garden. Despite the number of guest rooms there are in that big old house, I don't exactly know why I always end up using that room. All I know, and all I can feel, is that something is luring me, calling me.
Yes, there is nothing hiding in the darkness…
Except for a man, with grey piercing eyes that can cut through one's soul, and a smile that can send me immobilized. He's there in the darkness, he has always been there lurking…
Creeping…
Waiting…
Until he can take one single soul with him, and I?
I am his target.