There are five, sliding in and out of the shadows. Stretching closer like a flower reaching for the sun. They could smell their prey, but didn't have noses. Only nothing surrounded by nothing encapsulating nothing, still they were something. They didn't weigh anything or have feet, but left foot prints all the same. Made of and by a force we don't and can't understand. Seeing one would be like bottling gravity, then pouring it all over yourself.

Dread follows them; they are dread. Following themselves and hunting they bore and bear more dread. Sensing sadness, drawn to it. With deep sadness your soul is left open, exposed and vulnerable. They break off pieces of souls and devour them. The snap is auidible, you could hear it being done to you and not even know it was happening. They normally take small amounts, but sometimes they take it all. Snapping until there is nothing left. They are drawn to grief and pain. Stalking scentless scents with nothing noses.

They came upon a house, an old man lived there alone. He had lost everyone he loved and the nights were especially hard on him. He fell asleep with his window open, the breeze helped him stay that way. They crept in with the wind, he was alone in a now crowded room. He twitched in his sleep with the first 'SNAP' but still slept. Then two more: 'SNAP' he winced shaking his head, 'SNAP' he was sweating, dreaming he is running in place in total darkness. 'SNAP' he woke screaming, but there was no sound. Only a vaguely familiar snapping. 'SNAP' tears tore down his face, he cried empty screams to an empty room. He shuts his eyes as tight as he can. 'SNAP' he opens his eyes to nothing, sees nothing. 'SNAP' the loudest yet as they devour what remains of his soul. With his last breath he births new nothing, it joins in the huddle over his bed. They slide out on the shadows, there are six.












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