The clouds defy the sun, so that the world is denied its golden touch. The whispering wind provokes the wolves into a frenzied howl and the owls haunt the sky with their song. On this dark day that no one seems to remember, as the porch lights mimic the flicker of a firefly, a young child sits silent and still.
He's waiting—but what for?
A cold shiver runs down the boy's spine. All is silent except for the boy's breath, a rhythmical sound. Inhale. All is quiet without explanation. Exhale. The silence lasts a minute, or two.
Then a switch is flipped and pandemonium breaks loose.
Deafening gusts of wind roar, animating the forest to life. Wolves yelp and howl, terrified. Owls screech as they are swept away. Then—over there!—the bushes rustle and die as a figure emerges. Something silver shines, separating the being from the background, but still, the figure blends into the shadows. No, it belonged to the shadows.
The young child watches, eyes unblinking.
Eyelids scrunch around the colorless iris with slits for pupils, and the figure greets him with a smile, a row of blinding white teeth. The figure advanced and death was right behind it. A cloud of dust followed in its wake as the grass withered and the ground shriveled with every step.
The being neared. The boy ran inside.
Lights on the third floor flicker on. Footsteps thundered down the stairs and now the kitchen is illuminated.