There it stood, singling me out and glaring at me. I felt its stare burn straight through my skin, as the blistering wind howled through me. I lost all senses and was left alone to fall into the blood stained hands of the last figure that looked upon my innocent face. Was this my imagination running wild, or the reality of the distress that would lead me to the sinful hands of death? And the land, soon to be my death bed was barren, desolate and taunting, as if to tell me to make my final prayers. But then, as I blinked, it all seemed to disappear…
It was late November, and the trees were bare on the forsaken farm, showing off their naked limbs, and shuddering through the inaudible dusk. I was alone on this shady; taciturn night, vulnerable to the world, yet freed from all harm around me, or so it seemed. My parents were away on a works trip, leaving me to watch over the house - not too much responsibility for a boy only 16 years of age. Or so I thought…
Intoxicated by the pomposity of finally receiving the chance to tackle the challenge of responsibility, I took on the chance to go for a mediocre stroll around the neighbourhood, to explore the blissful scenery the winter nights enhanced. The Christmas lights had just been erected, giving a new life to the once ancient and lacklustre village town. As I sat gazing upon the nearby river, discerning about Christmas, the night grew darker, signalling me to head back to the farm.
I returned home, walking through the obscure pathway that lead up to the house, with only one light, shimmering upon the ice that filled the steps by the front ingress. But it was then I realised, something was different, the door was wide open, letting the bleak air nonchalantly leak into the house. I was discombobulated for I believed myself to have closed the door behind me however, I was in such a mediocre mood that the accident of leaving it open could be possible. I stepped foot inside feeling cautious yet not too anxious about the situation occurring before me. Discretely, I gazed around the house, making sure that it wasn’t too obvious of the fear overcoming my body.
Shortly after, my house was searched and to my relief everything seemed to be normal. Not an ornament lay out of place nor a piece of furniture moved. My body still seemed to be engulfed in fear therefore, I eventually decided that it was best for me to put my mind at rest and fall into a well-earned sleep.
I settled under my covers, turning off my bedside lamp, leaving nothing but the blisk moonlight to shine through my windows.  I lay thinking about my parents, and how much I miss them already. The house felt so empty, with only the heartfelt heat from the radiators keeping my dignity secure. But as I gradually closed my bushed eyes, I could hear my door open, with footsteps impending closer and closer toward me…
I grasped my pillow, clawing it apart like a Christmas present. My chest was tight, my stomach rotten. It was then I saw it, beckoning closer as it peered over the edge of my bed, whispering the letters of my name repeatedly.
The Bodach was its name…