17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGUWHQ2giixChapter 8
The Man Who Sang 🎶
The first time it spoke, it knew her name.
It was late 2022, deep in the Appalachian Mountains, where the nights stretched longer than they should and silence never truly meant safety. Aaliyah Rahman lay in bed, her room dim except for the cold glow of her phone screen. It was nearly 2 a.m., and the world outside her window had gone completely still. She had been binge-watching a show, trying to distract herself from the quiet that pressed too heavily against the walls at night. At the edge of her bed, her dog Atlas slept soundly.
The house was asleep. Everything was normal. Then . “Aaliyah…” The whisper was faint. Soft. Her body stiffened instantly.
Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes darted toward the door. A light scratching sound followed. Not loud. Not aggressive.
Just… something dragging slowly along the outside of her bedroom door, trailing into the hallway walls. Her heart began to race.
“Mom?” she called out, her voice hesitant. “Bella…?” Silence answered her. Still, against every instinct screaming inside her, she got up. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the doorknob. And opened it.
The hallway was empty. Dark. Still.
Every door closed. Every shadow unmoving.
Her chest tightened as a cold wave of dread washed over her. She stood there for a moment too long… before slowly closing the door again. “Just your imagination,” she whispered to herself, forcing a weak laugh.
But the feeling didn’t leave. Back in bed, she pulled the covers closer, her eyes drifting toward the large window beside her.
The curtains were thin. Too thin.
The darkness outside pressed against the glass like something waiting to be let in.
Atlas moved. The sudden motion made her flinch. He had been completely still seconds ago. Now He was standing. Rigid. Unmoving.
His body was tense, every muscle locked in place as he faced the window. A low growl rumbled from his throat. Not loud.
But deep. Warning. Aaliyah’s stomach dropped. “Atlas…?” she whispered. He didn’t respond. Didn’t blink. Didn’t move. She didn’t want to look at the window. Every instinct told her not to. So instead, she slowly reached out her hand toward him. “It’s okay… hey" Atlas sat up. Perfectly straight. Too straight. His breathing changed. Heavy.
Uneven. Then Slowly He turned his head.
Directly toward her. Aaliyah’s breath stopped.
Something in his eyes wasn’t right. There was no recognition. No warmth. Only something sharp. Something… wrong.
She began to back away slowly, her heart pounding violently against her ribs. “Atlas…?”
He lunged. The impact knocked the air from her lungs as his teeth sank into her arm.
Pain exploded through her body.
She screamed. “STOP—ATLAS—STOP!” But he didn’t let go. His jaw clenched tighter, pulling, tearing Her blood soaked into his fur as she struggled, kicking, twisting, desperate to break free. Finally She ripped her arm away. She ran. Slamming the door behind her, she pressed her full weight against it as Atlas threw himself against the other side.
Claws scraped violently against the wood.
Aggressive. Relentless. Her breath came in sharp, broken gasps as she stumbled down the hallway, clutching her bleeding arm.
“Dad—Dad!” She burst into his room, her voice shaking. He woke instantly, eyes widening as he saw the blood.
“What happened?!” Within seconds, he was moving. Grabbing a flashlight, rushing outside. He circled the house. Checked the window. Nothing. No footprints. No signs.
Then They returned to her room. He opened the door slowly. The room was silent. Atlas lay on the bed. Curled up. Sleeping. Peaceful.
No scratches on the door. No signs of struggle. Nothing. Aaliyah stood frozen.
Her arm throbbed violently. The blood was real. The bite marks were real. But none of it made sense. She didn’t sleep in her room that night. Or the next. Atlas never acted like that again. Not once. But something had changed. A few months later, in early 2023
It came back. This time it didn’t come for her. It came for others. Her basement was large. Too large. A space filled with storage rooms, shadows, and a small gym tucked into one corner. That night, she was there with her friend, Liyana. They laughed. Talked. I tried to pretend everything was normal. Until Liyana dropped her drink. The bottle hit the floor with a loud crack. Aaliyah turned. “What—?” Liyana’s face had gone pale. Her eyes were locked on something behind Aaliyah.
Something Aaliyah couldn’t see. “There’s someone there,” Liyana whispered. Her voice trembled. “A man… he doesn’t have a face…”
Aaliyah felt her chest tighten. “What are you talking about—” “He’s singing.” Liyana grabbed her hand. And ran. Upstairs.
Out of the basement. Later, through tears, she repeated the words: “Come on now… the world will end… you will survive… we have no time…” Aaliyah didn’t believe her.
Not then. Until someone else said the same thing. Different friend. Different day. Same basement. Same fear. Same man. Same song. Then another. And another. And another. Eight people. None of them connected. None of them told. All describing the same thing: A tall, skeletal man. Faceless. Wearing a hat. Wearing a suit. Always near the basement. Always watching. Always singing. And Aaliyah Had never seen him. Until the field. Snow covered everything that day. A quiet, endless white stretching across the land. She walked beside her friend, Nadia, the cold biting at her skin. Near the abandoned cabin She saw footprints.
Boot prints. Fresh. Circling the structure.
Nadia stopped. Then suddenly She ran.
Aaliyah followed, panic rising in her chest.
“Why are you—?!” Nadia stopped abruptly, breathing heavily. Her voice shook. “He was behind you.” Aaliyah froze. “He was right behind you,” Nadia whispered. “But when you ran…” Her voice dropped. “He crawled into the creek.” Aaliyah’s vision blurred. Tears spilled down her face as she slowly turned. Footprints. Handprints. Leading into the frozen creek. That’s when she broke. They ran all the way home. Neither of them spoke.
Time passed.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzJjafMezer
and then Add to home screen.