Creative Writing,  My Writing


It lurks in the corners of rooms. An invisible presence throughout conversations, gone unheard and more importantly, unseen. It slithers out when the coast is clear and caresses areas that have recently been kissed by human contact. It inhales deeply and let’s the smell of perfume settle into its very being. Then when it senses human movement it retreats back to the shadows and waits to repeat the process.

It’s the dregs of human life that lets it grow stronger.

But it notices everything. It knows all the secrets you are keeping from some people but not others. It knows when you are having a casual day or are trying to impress someone. It notes the different smells and looks that make up every day life. It knows the different voices you use on the phone. The voice for your mother, forced and tired. The voice for your sister, happy and willing to talk for hours. The voice for your best friend, conspiratory and eager.

It feeds off the energy of human life. Until one day it has acquired enough.

And then you come to find a slightly disfigured, poorly assembled version of a human crouching in the middle of the room.

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