willson writes stupid shit

guh??

(unfinished // technically horror?? Not really though- // Stupid little short story)

It was hard to notice at first. It's like it wasn't even there. But one look over and you see. Just sitting, waiting, watching. But why? You can't really know, for it doesn't talk but just stares. It's white eyes boring into your soul. It's pitch-black skin blending with the shadows. It stands tall, it's unnaturally long arms sitting at it's sides. It's frightening legs, so long they could put a tree to shame, bent just slightly so it's head doesn't hit the ceiling. Sometimes when you're not paying attention you can hear it laughing. It's really the only sound it makes besides little whispers. Little. Mocking. Whispers. Just loud enough for you to register that they're there, but not loud enough for you to hear what it's actually saying. Like it's doing it on purpose. Annoying you more than it already does. Half the time it's blocking your door. Your so scared you don't get out of bed to try and leave, to push past it. Scared it's going to do something. Although you know it's there, you can see it. Hear it. But... No one else can. No one else sees it. No one else can hear it. No one else even listens to you. You've seen it since you were young. Since you were so little you couldn't even register it shouldn't have been there. You tried telling people about it, but they brushed you off. Because you were young they didn't listen. The thought you were just making up stuff to get attention. So you stopped trying. Now you just try your best to ignore it. It's mostly easy. It usually just stands there. You still hate how it's mocking you. It probably doesn't even realize. Sometimes it follows you. It walks with you, back to your home. It's like it's trying to piss you off. To make you hate it. I mean, now you try to keep your room lit at all times. Whether it be from your lamp or just the tv light. Sometimes you wish it would go away. It would honestly be better that way. You hate being watched. But it never does. You mentioned it again, to someone different. They just said to tell it to go away. You don't tell them about things anymore...

It's still watching you. It won't go away. Some days are worse than others. Today is one of those days. You've grown to hate the darkness, your tired of its whispers, its laughter, its stupidly long limbs, the way it blends in with everything else, how you've grown so used to it being there that sometimes you don't even register it being there anymore. You wish this would end. It seems like a game to it. How long can you do something before the little human breaks. You're this close to snapping. But- but that's just what it wants. You can't give it the satisfaction of knowing its won its stupid game.

You keep getting mad. Your friends have noticed. Years of bottling up anger from this insignificant thing. And you finally shatter. You can't take it out on the people around you. So you shut down. They're worried about you...

You started talking again. You had to. You needed them to stop worrying about you. Even it started to notice.

(556 words)
(I may or may not finish this story..)