The Shadow in the corner

The old house creaked and groaned, each sigh of the wind a whisper of forgotten secrets. Sarah, huddled beneath a threadbare blanket, felt the cold seep into her bones. It wasn't the chill of the night that frightened her, but the darkness that clung to the room like a shroud. In the corner, a shadow danced, a grotesque silhouette that stretched and twisted, its shape constantly shifting.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw it, a shadowy figure with eyes like burning coals, its mouth a gaping maw that seemed to consume the very air. Fear, a cold serpent, coiled around her heart, squeezing the breath from her lungs. She wanted to scream, to run, but her legs felt like lead, her voice trapped in her throat.

The shadow moved, its tendrils reaching out, a silent promise of something terrible. Sarah knew she had to be brave, but the fear was a suffocating blanket, pulling her down into the abyss of terror. With a desperate gasp, she reached for the lamp on her bedside table, its light a beacon against the encroaching darkness. As the room flooded with the pale glow, the shadow retreated, melting back into the corner, leaving behind only the echoes of her fear. The house, once a prison of terror, now seemed to sigh with relief, the wind whispering a lullaby of safety.