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Description
Rosemary peeked an eye out to view her room. It was completely dark. Her mother had shut the door, cutting off the light from the bathroom—probably in an attempt to prevent her from hearing their argument.
Rosemary was no baby, but even she desired a night light when her parents wanted their privacy.
She was no baby. She didn't see things. She didn't think that imaginary creatures were lurking around in her darkened bedroom... she knew that that something very real was there. Rosemary could almost feel feel it slithering around. Her mind alone could almost see it: black and slimy with yellow slits for eyes. One part snake, three parts nightmare.
Rosemary ducked back underneath the covers. If there was something there in her room, it didn't have to see her to know that she was watching it. It would sense it as it laid in wait. Devouring her fear.
Maybe if she pretended to be asleep, it would leave her alone.

She made a small opening in the covers to allow fresh air in and laid still, hoping that her trick would work.
In no time, Rosemary was asleep and dreaming of a song....

A song that began as it had before. A hum. Resonating through the dark hallway. The hum became a multitude of voices, increasing in harmony, yet remaining barely above a whisper.
She went down the stairs through no will of her own.
It waited for her down there.
Hungry.
Patient in its own hideous way.
She never saw it, but she did always feel it. Its presence was vile. Slimy, slithering... black.
As much as she wanted to turn and bound back up those stairs to find a hiding place anywhere in that dark hallway, she could not.
It was down there, waiting for her and her body obeyed it; the treacherous flesh that it was!
She felt the old wooden stairs beneath her bare feet, the hard metal banister as her hand slid down it, and she could hear it below, moving wetly.
The stairs seemed endless. If she looked behind her, she would only see what was before her: darkness. She would have thought herself blind if it were not for the sensation of her eyes screaming that there was something to be seen.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached the end of the stairs. Nothing lept out at her but she still felt it there.
It was time. She knew that.
Her eyes strained for a glimpse of what wanted her.
Nothing at first.
Then—yes!—something was moving.
Coming closer.
She was terrified of its intent for her, but it was too late for her to turn and run from it now; it was coming.
No! Too fast!
It sped up. The heat of its desire—its hunger—struck her body.
Her eyes would not close as much as she wanted them to.
Treacherous flesh!
She saw black tentacles—there was dim light now or had her eyes adjusted?—a flash of sharp white teeth, a hint of a face like a mouth—she screamed as it drew closer...

Description
Rosemary peeked an eye out to view her room. It was completely dark. Her mother had shut the door, cutting off the light from the bathroom—probably in an attempt to prevent her from hearing their argument.
Rosemary was no baby, but even she desired a night light when her parents wanted their privacy.
She was no baby. She didn't see things. She didn't think that imaginary creatures were lurking around in her darkened bedroom... she knew that that something very real was there. Rosemary could almost feel feel it slithering around. Her mind alone could almost see it: black and slimy with yellow slits for eyes. One part snake, three parts nightmare.
Rosemary ducked back underneath the covers. If there was something there in her room, it didn't have to see her to know that she was watching it. It would sense it as it laid in wait. Devouring her fear.
Maybe if she pretended to be asleep, it would leave her alone.

She made a small opening in the covers to allow fresh air in and laid still, hoping that her trick would work.
In no time, Rosemary was asleep and dreaming of a song....

A song that began as it had before. A hum. Resonating through the dark hallway. The hum became a multitude of voices, increasing in harmony, yet remaining barely above a whisper.
She went down the stairs through no will of her own.
It waited for her down there.
Hungry.
Patient in its own hideous way.
She never saw it, but she did always feel it. Its presence was vile. Slimy, slithering... black.
As much as she wanted to turn and bound back up those stairs to find a hiding place anywhere in that dark hallway, she could not.
It was down there, waiting for her and her body obeyed it; the treacherous flesh that it was!
She felt the old wooden stairs beneath her bare feet, the hard metal banister as her hand slid down it, and she could hear it below, moving wetly.
The stairs seemed endless. If she looked behind her, she would only see what was before her: darkness. She would have thought herself blind if it were not for the sensation of her eyes screaming that there was something to be seen.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached the end of the stairs. Nothing lept out at her but she still felt it there.
It was time. She knew that.
Her eyes strained for a glimpse of what wanted her.
Nothing at first.
Then—yes!—something was moving.
Coming closer.
She was terrified of its intent for her, but it was too late for her to turn and run from it now; it was coming.
No! Too fast!
It sped up. The heat of its desire—its hunger—struck her body.
Her eyes would not close as much as she wanted them to.
Treacherous flesh!
She saw black tentacles—there was dim light now or had her eyes adjusted?—a flash of sharp white teeth, a hint of a face like a mouth—she screamed as it drew closer...