by Emily Strong
A strange black creature stood hunched in the doorway.
I stiffened as a chill ran through my spine. I bit my tongue and moved only my eyes, which were darting about the room. Something was in here. Some sort of unbeknownst sprit-or demon-was here. I could sense it, feel it in every nerve in my body.
Come. It whispered, against the stagnant air blowing silently from the air conditioner. You know you want to. I almost unlocked my body, almost responded to the lush, velvety voice. But I managed to restrain myself.
Now. It’s voice was a mere sigh in my ears. All I had to do was step forward, into the shadow of this milky white room, but I didn’t.
“No.” I whispered to it.
Yes. It responded, more alluring than ever.
“No!” I shouted. Great, I’d done it now.
I heard the whisper of the door open and the footsteps as guards walked into my padded cell cautiously. They picked me up tenderly and lifted me through the long, bleached hallway and into another cell, but this one had no shadows. They set me down gently and slid out the door, closing it behind them.
I sighed. This was the room I was always moved into when they felt I was going into hysterics or something. Mostly just when I started screaming.
I knew I wasn’t crazy, not in the slightest. They just thought I was. Because I could talk to demons, and spirits. But so could ghost whisperers.
I heard the door slide open, and realized it must be lunchtime. I spun around leisurely to face the door.
What I saw astonished me, as well as horrified me.
A strange black creature stood hunched in the doorway, with long yellow nails and pointed white fangs jutting out of his mouth. He had bright, ruby colored eyes with small black slits for pupils.
When he saw me, his faced stretched slowly into a malevolent grin. He lunged, and tore me to shreds.