Chapter 135

They had always warned him about eating sweets late at night. His mother, his aunt, even his grandfather would mumble stories about it. He never took it seriously, dismissing it as nothing more than some old wives' tale. But that night, the warning finally made sense.

His house was cold, a draft from the broken windows catching his skin as he leaned against the counter. The clock on the stove blinked a bright red: 3:17 AM. He hadn't planned to stay up this late, but the sound of the bag of candy wrappers, crinkling between his fingers, was too much to ignore. The sweet taste of the chocolate on his tongue felt like a guilty pleasure. He had eaten more than he should have.

But who cared? It was late, quiet, and there was no one around to judge. The only thing left in the house was the empty echo of his own thoughts. So he ate another handful of gummies, chewing them with a satisfaction that faded quickly.

A gust of wind rattled the kitchen window. He flinched, but only slightly. The chill crawled down his spine. Nothing unusual. Just the wind, he thought. He looked out the window, his breath fogging up the glass as he wiped it away. Nothing but the empty street, the broken streetlights flickering.

He stepped away from the counter, turning back toward the hallway when he heard a sound. It was a soft scrape, distant but unmistakable. Something scratching against the outside of the house, moving along the siding. He froze, his hand gripping the doorframe as he listened. The sound stopped, leaving only silence.

Was it just a tree branch? Maybe the wind had done that, he reasoned. Or maybe it was just his mind playing tricks. He wasn't sure.

He moved toward the front door, and as he reached for the knob, the sound came again. This time it was louder, closer. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.

His pulse quickened. He didn't open the door, but his curiosity gnawed at him. His fingers hovered above the lock, his mind torn between ignoring it and checking. His breath felt tight in his chest, a knot of unease forming. He let out a shaky breath, trying to steady himself.

That's when the scraping turned into something worse—something deeper, more guttural. Like claws dragging across metal. He recoiled, his heart hammering in his chest.

Without thinking, he backed away from the door, grabbed his coat, and rushed out the back door. The cold air slammed into him as soon as he stepped onto the porch. It felt unnatural, almost suffocating. He had no idea what was out there, but he had to see for himself.

The street was eerily silent, the only sound the faint rustle of leaves in the gutters. He turned his head to the right, toward the alley where he had heard the scraping, and his blood ran cold.

There, at the edge of the streetlight, something stood. It wasn't human—he could tell that much instantly.

The creature was hunched over, like it was too tall to stand upright without contorting its body in impossible ways. Its back was arched unnaturally, its limbs too long, ending in jagged, gnarled claws. The figure was cloaked in some dark fabric, ragged and torn, the texture so thick it seemed to swallow the dim light around it.

He couldn't see its face, only the darkness beneath the hood. But he could hear it—hear the wet, sucking sounds as its mouth opened and closed, like something was feeding on the very air.

His feet froze to the concrete, his muscles stiffening. The creature's head tilted, and for the first time, he saw its eyes. They weren't eyes at all, not in the way a human's eyes were. They were hollow, like empty sockets, but with an unholy light flickering deep inside. A flicker that pierced through him.

A chill gripped his heart. He couldn't move, couldn't scream. His mind screamed at him to run, but his body refused to listen.

Then it spoke.

"Did you eat sweets, boy?" The voice wasn't human, not even close. It was rough, a growl that rattled his bones.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Wh—what?"

The creature took a step forward, its claws dragging against the ground, each movement sending a sharp crack through the air. "Did you eat sweets after 3 a.m.? Did you?" It repeated, closer now, the words like acid on his skin.

He wanted to scream, wanted to do anything but stand there, but his body wouldn't respond. The creature's presence wrapped around him like a tightening noose.

"Y—yeah," he croaked, his voice barely a whisper. He didn't know why he admitted it. Something in him wanted to say he hadn't, wanted to lie, but the words came out anyway.

The creature's lips peeled back, revealing jagged teeth, each one yellowed and broken. "You shouldn't have," it hissed. "You shouldn't have come outside."

With that, it moved. It moved fast. Too fast.

Before he could take a step back, its claws were on him, wrapping around his wrist with an iron grip. He cried out in pain, feeling his bones grind against the pressure. The thing dragged him toward the street, and his feet scraped against the pavement, leaving shallow marks behind.

His eyes darted around desperately, looking for anything, any sign of life, but the street was empty. The silence smothered him.

The creature's mouth opened wide. He could hear it, hear the wetness and the sucking noises as it opened wider, its jaw distending like some grotesque spider. A horrific stench filled the air—rot, decay, and something far worse.

"No… no, please…" he begged, but it didn't stop. It didn't care.

It pushed his head forward, forcing his face into the darkness of its mouth. And then it bit down.

The pain was excruciating. It wasn't just the teeth sinking into his skin; it was like the creature was pulling at his very essence, dragging everything out of him. He tried to scream, but the creature's grip on his face was too tight. The taste of blood flooded his mouth as his vision spun, his body no longer obeying his commands.

But the worst part wasn't the pain, or the fear—it was the hopelessness. The complete, crushing realization that this was it. There would be no escape.

And as the creature consumed him, bit by painful bit, the only thing he could think of was how stupid he had been. How foolish he had been to eat those damn candies. How the simple decision to indulge in something sweet had sealed his fate.

In the end, there was no dramatic final breath. No desperate last words. The creature didn't kill him so much as it consumed him, piece by piece, until there was nothing left.

And in the quiet of the night, with the wind picking up once more, the only thing that remained was the sound of the crinkling candy wrappers, forgotten on the kitchen counter.