Nishimurafarted💩 :
Of course! Leo lived alone on the edge of a dense wood, three miles out from town. Assuming it was just a loose pine branch or a stray raccoon, he rolled over and pulled the heavy quilt to his chin.
Tap. Tap... tap.
It wasn't wood against glass. It was fingernails—deliberate, light, and climbing higher up the pane.
Holding his breath, Leo crept out of bed and glued his eye to the edge of the window blind. Outside, illuminated by a pale crescent moon, stood a figure pressed flat against the glass. It wore an oversized, rain-soaked yellow coat, its face completely obscured by a head bowed low toward the porch roof.
Before Leo could step back, the figure slowly tilted its head up. Its eyes were not eyes at all—just smooth, wet indentations of pale skin, and its mouth was stretched into a wide, rigid smile that seemed to hinge too far back toward its ears.
The thing didn't knock again. It reached up with a long, gray finger and wrote a single word backward on the outside of the glass:
LET
Leo scrambled backward into his hallway, his heart hammering against his ribs, only to freeze when he heard a quiet, cheerful voice call out from the kitchen downstairs—using his own mother's voice, word for word:
"Leo, honey? Did you leave the back door open? It’s freezing in here.
2026-11-09 01:55:02