Page 32 of Grotesque Love

Fuck.

I try to calm my racing heart, but with each breath a sense of anticipation builds within me, swelling like a wave cresting until I’m drowning in my own paranoia.

Slowly, and on unsteady feet, I drudge back to the manor house in the dark. My skin burns, like tiny pinpricks as I brush against brambles and outstretched tree branches. Something is out there, watching me.

No.

Not just watching…

A twig snaps.

I’m not imagining things. Someone…or somethingis following me.

Each step echoes on the flagstones as I hurry along the path back. In the quiet of the dark, an icy sensation creeps up my spine.

The feeling of being watched intensifies and my stomach churns.I don’t believe in ghosts or monsters,I tell myself firmly.They aren’t real.

A palpable presence to my right sends shivers down my spine before fading into the blackness. Every rustle of leaves, every shadow dancing in the pale, fragmented moonlight, feels like a silent warning.

The nervousness spreads, and although I know I shouldn’t, I glance over my shoulder. A fleeting shadow, a whisper of movement that vanishes as quickly as it appeared. My breath catches in my throat, and I lose my footing, falling to one knee, my pulse racing with a mixture of fear and adrenaline.

Quickly, I push myself upright, ignoring the sting from where I’ve grazed the skin.

I’m not alone out here.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end but I push forward, driven by the desperate need to escape whatever is hunting me in the dark.

Monsters aren’t real...

But as I race through the woods, the memory of the gargoyle haunts me like a nightmare. It moved. I’m certain of it.

The forest seems to close in around me, the trees cast long, twisted shadows that distort and shift with every gust of wind.

Monsters aren’t real...

I’m not imagining things. Something is out here. The darkness seems to press in around me, suffocating me with its oppressive weight as what little light there is vanishes behind the thick canopy of trees.

Fear claws at my chest but I press forward, driven by the desperate hope of reaching safety before it’s too late. I break out into a run, the sense of dread in the pit of my stomach only growing stronger, a cold knot of fear tightening until I think I might be sick.

Monsters aren’t real, Ari. Think logically…

If monsters aren’t real, then what the hell is chasing me through the woods? It moved – the statue. The gargoyle. The fucking monster.

I saw it. I felt it. I’mnotcrazy.

And now it’s coming for me.

My heart pounds as I sprint through the underbrush, the rhythmic pounding of my footsteps echoing in my ears. The cool night air rushes past me, whipping strands of hair that have worked their way free the intricate braid across my face as I navigate the dense foliage.

I flounder over a fallen branch, falling to my knees, the rough twigs and dirt digging into my palms as I push myself back up.

Run, Ari.

Every muscle in my body screams for me to keep moving.

You can’t stay here.

My brain is telling me I need to outrun the terror chasing me.

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