Fear The — Night

She could hold her breath. She’d done it before—minutes at a time, until her lungs burned and stars burst behind her eyes. But the mist was patient. It always waited.

Here’s a short story titled It didn’t matter how many locks she put on the door. Elara knew—the night always found a way in. Fear the Night

“See what?” The words escaped before she could stop them. She could hold her breath

She hadn’t. She couldn’t have. She checked every night. Twice. It always waited

“Fear the night, little one.”

Outside, the thing that wore her father’s face whispered one last time:

“It’s all right,” the voice said. Not her father’s anymore. It was flattening, becoming something else. Something that only borrowed human vowels. “We don’t hurt you. We just want you to see .”