That night, the storm came quietly.
No thunder, no rain — just a heavy wind that made the old house creak and sigh like it was alive.
Aiden sat at his desk near the window, a single lamp lighting the papers scattered across the surface. His laptop hummed softly beside him, a blank document waiting. For hours, he had been struggling to write something — anything — that made sense. But now, the words finally flowed.
Maybe it was the mood of the house, or maybe he was just too tired to care about perfection. Either way, ideas poured out of him. A lost traveler. A mysterious village. A curse that tied the living to the forgotten. His fingers flew across the keyboard, tapping with renewed energy.
"Finally," he whispered, smiling to himself. "Something that doesn't sound like garbage."
Time slipped away without him noticing. The clock on the wall ticked past midnight. Outside, the wind had grown louder, brushing against the windows like restless fingers.
Aiden yawned, saved his work, and shut the laptop. His back ached from sitting too long. He stretched, groaning quietly.
"That's enough horror for one night."
He left the lamp on — too lazy to turn it off — and slid under the covers. The house creaked again as if settling around him. His mind drifted. He thought of his characters, of how the story might end. Somewhere between those thoughts, sleep finally claimed him.
---
He didn't know how long he slept before something woke him.
At first, it was just the sound — a faint rustling, like fabric dragging across the floor. Then a soft tap against the windowpane.
Aiden stirred, frowning. His room was dim, lit only by the glow of the bedside lamp he'd forgotten to switch off. The air felt… thicker somehow. He blinked, eyes adjusting.
Then he saw it.
Something — someone — stood by the window.
At first, his sleepy mind tried to make sense of it — maybe a trick of the light, maybe his reflection — but the longer he stared, the more his stomach dropped.
The figure wasn't human.
From the waist up, it looked like a man — tall, pale-skinned, with dark hair that shimmered faintly under the lamplight. But where legs should have been, there was a long, coiled tail covered in sleek, black-green scales that glistened like wet stone.
The tail moved slowly, curling and uncurling on the floor, the faint sound of scales scraping wood filling the silence.
Aiden froze.
Every muscle in his body went stiff. His heart hammered in his chest so hard it hurt.
He couldn't even breathe.
The creature turned its head — and its eyes met his.
They were golden. Not bright, not glowing — just deep, sharp, and alive. The same color as the man in the painting.
Aiden's breath caught in his throat. His mind screamed at him to move, to run, but his body wouldn't listen.
The figure tilted its head slightly, watching him. There was no anger in its expression. No threat. Just quiet curiosity — like a cat studying something strange.
Then it spoke.
"...You called me."
The voice was smooth. Low. It didn't sound like it came from across the room, but from inside his head, brushing softly against his thoughts.
Aiden's heart nearly stopped.
He yanked the blanket around himself, as if that would help, and stammered,
"Wh–what the hell are you?! How did you get in here?"
The creature blinked once, slowly.
His tail shifted again, the tip brushing lightly against the wooden floor.
"You woke me," he said simply. "With blood."
Aiden's stomach twisted. His mind flashed back to the basement, to the moment his blood had smeared across the painting.
"No," he whispered, shaking his head. "No, that's—that's not possible."
The man — or whatever he was — stepped closer. The motion was graceful, almost soundless, the tail gliding behind him like a shadow.
Aiden scrambled backward until his shoulders hit the headboard.
"Stay back!"
The stranger stopped. His expression remained unreadable. Then, with a slow blink, he whispered,
"You're afraid."
Aiden couldn't even answer. His hands trembled, gripping the blanket so tight his knuckles turned white.
The creature tilted his head again, eyes narrowing slightly — not in anger, but confusion, as if trying to understand why the human in front of him was panicking.
For a long, heavy moment, neither of them moved. The house was silent except for the sound of the wind outside.
Then — as quietly as he had appeared — the figure began to fade. The edges of his body shimmered, softening like mist. His golden eyes lingered for one last second before they too dissolved into the dim light.
And then he was gone.
Aiden stayed frozen in place, staring at the empty spot by the window. His breathing came out in shaky bursts, the air cold against his skin.
He sat there for minutes — or maybe hours — too afraid to close his eyes again.
When he finally did, dawn was already breaking through the clouds, and the sound of the wind had faded away.
But the words still echoed in his head.
You woke me… with blood.