Galeru

You feel eyes fixed upon you, from all angles. A gleam in the shadows. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. If you turn around, perhaps, you might come face to face with your watcher. Or is it watchers? You have lost track of the flashing eyes, quick as they are, almost as if they are on the edge of existence. You shiver, though the air is a pleasantly balmy, and you feel no malevolence, no hostility. They regard you, perhaps, with amusement, or curiosity. Still, you are rooted to the spot, ensnared by the shifting shadows. Slowly, they draw closer. As quiet, as subtle as a whisper, a faint glimmer just out of reach. You feel heat. Their gaze lights a fire, burning into the back of your head, intense and unwavering.

The clouds pass. The sun shines, a brilliant flash, and the suffocating darkness melts away. The leaves rustle as a gentle breeze stirs, and the presence fades, as though it were shadow itself. You sigh, but your body remains tense; your gut tells you what your other senses do not. They are still there. They will still be there when you are gone. When all around them is dust and ash.

Silent. Watching. Waiting.

by Aeroden