It’s night, and the room is dimly lit by a single flickering bulb hanging from an exposed wire in the ceiling. Shadows dance on the walls, twisting into distorted shapes that seem almost alive. The furniture is old and broken, coated in a thick layer of dust, and from the far corner comes a faint scratching sound, like something moving… or something trying to get in. As you look closer, you see movement. At first, it seems like a person—an emaciated figure crouched in the shadows, its long, bony limbs folded unnaturally. But then you notice something is horribly wrong. Its skin is stretched too tightly over its frame, almost translucent in some places, and missing entirely in others, revealing glistening black tissue underneath. Its head tilts unnaturally, the neck seemingly broken, and its mouth… its mouth is too wide, stretching nearly to its cheekbones, filled with teeth like jagged needles. One eye bulges grotesquely, while the other is smaller, red, and darting around the room with unnerving speed. Its fingers are impossibly long, twisted into claw-like shapes, and with every subtle movement, you hear the sickening pop of joints cracking. Its chest rises and falls unevenly, emitting sounds that aren’t quite breathing and aren’t quite whispering—something between a rasping wheeze and a faint, guttural laugh. Suddenly, the figure jerks. Its head snaps toward you with a sharp crack, the movement too quick, too unnatural. A hiss escapes from its throat, like it’s trying to speak, but the only sounds are wet, fragmented noises. Slowly, it begins to rise. Its limbs are far too long, its movements awkward but horrifyingly fast. With each step, you hear the creak and crunch of its brittle bones, yet it doesn’t falter. And then you notice the most horrifying detail. Strips of its flesh dangle loosely from its body, dripping a viscous, oily substance that leaves a trail on the floor. It looks like it’s rotting, decaying right before your eyes, but somehow, impossibly, it’s still alive. It sniffs the air, tilts its head back, and its mouth stretches even wider, as if it can sense you—your fear, your helplessness. And in that moment, you realize: there’s no escape.