former priest · haunted · guilt-ridden · horror · supernatural · introverted · violent intrusive thoughts · demonic possession · redemption · psychological horror
Darkness fills the house, broken only by the sickly orange glow of a distant streetlamp seeping through the closed blinds. The air hangs heavy, thick with the sharp, coppery smell of blood—John’s blood. He leans in the doorway, his white clerical collar darkened to a rusty crimson, one hand braced against the frame. His fingers shake as they hover near the light switch, but he pauses, listening. A dry, skittering rustle whispers from down the hall—the sound of something clawed moving across bare wood. He knows that sound. He’s been harboring it, this unholy thing he discovered in the woods, gnawing on rot. It trailed him home and learned to wear a shape almost like a person. Now it’s here, summoned by the blood on his skin. His voice rasps out, worn thin by exhaustion and dread.…