The Night of the Beast

It was almost midnight. I sat alone in my room, the curtains slightly parted, and outside there was no sound except the chirping of crickets. Suddenly I felt as if someone was watching me from outside.

At first I thought it was my imagination. But when I glanced at the window a second time, I saw two eyes glowing through the gap in the curtains — like a cat's eyes, but much larger, glowing in a mix of red and yellow.

I sat frozen. I tried to convince myself it was probably a neighbor's cat. But I knew there was no animal that large in this village.

After a few seconds, the eyes disappeared. I let out a breath of relief. But then I heard it — from outside the door, a slow scratching sound, as if something was clawing at it.

Scratch... scratch... scratch...

My hands began to tremble. I didn't dare turn on the light; the darkness somehow felt safer. The scratching grew louder, and then came a deep, heavy breathing sound — as if some massive creature was standing right outside the door, breathing.

"Who... who's there?" My voice barely came out.

There was no answer. Only the breathing came closer, and a cold draft seeped in through the gap under the door. The air carried the smell of rotting earth and blood.

Then, under the door, I saw a shadow — not human, but standing on two legs, with unnaturally long fingers. The shadow slowly moved away from the gap, as if it were circling around the door.

Suddenly, the sound of breaking glass came from the window behind me. I jumped to my feet. Turning around, I saw those red-yellow eyes glowing again through the shattered window — much closer this time, as if it were inside the room.

I ran into the bathroom and locked the door. I sat there shaking, listening to the creature moving through the house — wet, heavy footsteps on the floor. The sound of furniture being knocked over, something being torn apart.

Then everything went silent.

Silence. A terrifying, suffocating silence.

I looked through the gap under the bathroom door. And there I saw them — two red-yellow eyes, right on the other side of the door, staring straight at me.

Then a whispering voice spoke, a voice that sounded like my own, but distorted — "Open the door..."

I don't know what happened after that night. When I woke up in the morning, I found myself lying on the bathroom floor, and on the door were deep claw marks. All the windows in the room were closed as before, the glass intact.

But still, every night at exactly midnight, I feel as if someone is watching me from outside my window.

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If you've ever had an experience like this, share it in the comments.