Chapter 1: The Man in the Window

The pale light of the moon spilled through the gaps in the curtains, casting long, jagged shadows across the boy's bedroom. Liam couldn't shake the unease that clung to him as he lay in bed, his school backpack still lying by the door, untouched since he got home. His parents had been their usual selves—busy, distracted, and tired. But something about tonight felt... wrong.

The first sign was the silence. Not the ordinary kind of quiet that followed the end of a long day, but an oppressive stillness, as if the world outside his window had stopped breathing. Liam turned his head toward the window.

That's when he saw him.

A figure stood in the frame of the window, silhouetted by the faint glow of the streetlamp. His features were obscured, but there was no mistaking the way he stared directly at Liam, unmoving. The man's head tilted slightly to one side, as though studying him.

Liam's breath hitched. At first, he thought it was just a trick of the light—a shadow cast by a tree branch, maybe. But then the figure raised a hand, placing it flat against the glass, leaving no room for doubt.

Heart hammering in his chest, Liam sat up, clutching the blanket like it might shield him from whatever this was. The man didn't move. His hand remained pressed to the glass, and his head tilted further, almost unnaturally.

Liam wanted to scream for his parents, but his voice caught in his throat. Instead, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and crept toward the window, drawn forward by a mix of terror and inexplicable curiosity.

As he reached the window, he froze. The man was no longer standing outside.

He was inside.

Liam stumbled backward, his heel catching on the edge of the rug. The man stepped closer, his movements fluid yet wrong, like a puppet on invisible strings. His face was still shadowed, but his eyes... his eyes glowed faintly, an unnatural yellow that pierced the darkness.

"Follow me," the man said, his voice low and guttural, like the grinding of stone.

Liam shook his head, fear flooding his veins. "W-who are you?"

The man didn't answer. Instead, he turned and walked toward the door, his footsteps making no sound. Liam's body moved before his mind could stop him, and he followed.

Liam trailed the man down the hallway, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure it would wake his parents. But the house remained eerily quiet, as though it had been swallowed by another reality.

The man led him to the living room, where the shadows seemed deeper, more oppressive. Liam stopped short when he saw his parents sitting on the couch, their faces blank and unseeing.

"Mom? Dad?" he called out, his voice trembling.

They didn't respond.

The man turned to Liam, a sinister smile creeping across his shadowed face. "Watch," he commanded.

Before Liam could react, the man raised his hand. The air grew cold, and a low, inhuman growl filled the room. Liam's parents snapped their heads toward him in unison, their eyes now glowing the same sickly yellow as the man's.

"No!" Liam screamed, backing away.

The man turned toward Liam's parents, his form shifting and warping as though his body couldn't decide what shape it wanted to take. His limbs stretched unnaturally, his fingers elongating into sharp claws. With a guttural roar, he lunged at Liam's parents.

Liam's scream echoed through the house as he watched the man tear into them, their blood pooling on the floor. He tried to run, but his legs wouldn't move.

The man turned to him, blood dripping from his claws. "You're next," he growled.

Liam bolted upright in bed, gasping for air. His sheets were drenched in sweat, and his heart raced as though he'd just run a marathon. It was a dream. Just a dream.

He glanced at the window, half-expecting to see the man standing there. But the window was empty, the faint light of the streetlamp spilling through.

He let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his damp hair. "It was just a dream," he whispered to himself.

A low chuckle echoed through the room.

Liam froze. Slowly, he turned his head toward the corner of the room.

The man was standing there, his glowing yellow eyes fixed on Liam.

"Did you enjoy the preview?" the man asked, his voice dripping with malice.

Liam's blood turned to ice. "Y-you're not real," he stammered.

The man's smile widened, revealing rows of jagged teeth. "Oh, I'm very real, Liam. Now, be a good boy and follow me."

The man extended his hand, and Liam felt an invisible force pulling him out of bed. He tried to resist, but his body betrayed him, moving toward the man against his will.

"Where are we going?" Liam asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The man leaned down, his face inches from Liam's. His breath was cold and smelled of decay. "To see what happens next."

The darkness swallowed them whole as the man led Liam through a doorway that hadn't been there before. The air grew colder with each step, and the sound of distant whispers filled Liam's ears.

They emerged in a room that looked like his living room but was twisted and wrong. The walls pulsed as though alive, and the shadows moved of their own accord. Liam's parents were there, sitting on the couch, their heads snapping toward him the moment he entered.

"Liam," they said in unison, their voices hollow and distorted.

The man laughed, a sound that echoed unnaturally in the warped space. "Do you see now, Liam? This is your future. This is your fate."

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