File #666: The Mad God Who [Redacted]

Nathan had just drifted into that early edge of sleep when he saw it—a flicker, a tiny ember pulsing against the darkness behind his eyelids. He jerked awake, heart hammering in his chest. For a moment, he stared around the room, disoriented.

"Get it together," he muttered, rubbing his eyes as if he could scrub the strange image away.

But sleep wouldn't come easily after that. Every time he closed his eyes, he could feel it—an odd prickle at the base of his neck, like something was watching him.

The next morning, he stumbled into his usual coffee shop, barely aware of his surroundings as he tried to shake off the lingering unease. As he waited for his order, his friend, Jason, approached with a grin.

"Whoa, Nate—you look like a train hit you. Big night?" Jason joked, patting him on the shoulder.

Nathan managed a weak smile. "Not quite. Just…been having some weird dreams."

"Ah, say no more," Jason replied with a dramatic nod. "Those kinds of dreams, huh?"

"Not like that," Nathan said, running a hand through his hair. He hesitated. "I don't know, man. This one was…different. I kept seeing this weird flicker. It sounds crazy, but it almost felt…real."

Jason raised an eyebrow, looking amused. "Dude, sounds like you need some decent sleep. Probably just stress."

"Yeah…yeah, you're probably right." Nathan tried to brush it off, but the flicker had burned itself into his mind, a strange ember that wouldn't fade.

As the days wore on, the visions only got stronger. Each night, he found himself back in that dark place, surrounded by shifting shadows and distant whispers that he couldn't quite understand. The visions felt like a living thing, pulsing and growing with each encounter, leaving him uneasy and exhausted. And it wasn't just at night anymore. He started seeing things—fleeting shadows, strange flashes—during the day, too.

One evening, he met his friend Sarah for dinner, hoping her calm presence would ground him. She'd always been the rational one of their group, the one who would roll her eyes at ghost stories and scoff at superstitions.

"So what's going on with you, Nate?" Sarah asked, her gaze piercing as she studied him. "You look…frazzled."

Nathan hesitated, feeling silly. "I…well, I've been having these strange dreams," he admitted. "It's like this flicker…like an ember. And it's been happening every night. But then today, I saw it while I was awake. Just this weird glow…almost like it's leading me somewhere."

Sarah gave him a skeptical look, but her voice was gentle. "Maybe you're just tired. Overworking yourself?"

"It's more than that," Nathan said, his voice barely a whisper. "I can feel it, Sarah. I can feel something…watching me."

She reached across the table, resting a hand on his arm. "Nate, it's probably nothing. You're just stressed, overthinking things. Maybe get some rest, okay?"

"Yeah…you're right," he said, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply, profoundly wrong. He forced himself to laugh. "Guess I'm letting my imagination get the best of me."

They finished dinner, and he said his goodbyes, trying to dismiss the feeling as he headed home. But as he walked down his street, the streetlights began to flicker, casting shadows that seemed to pulse and breathe.

"Come on, not this again," he muttered, quickening his pace. He glanced around, half expecting to see something lurking in the shadows. But there was nothing. Just the empty street and the silent flickering lights.

And then he saw it—the flicker, brighter and closer than ever, hovering just ahead of him, pulsing with an unnatural glow. It was real, undeniably there, and it was beckoning him.

"No…this isn't real," Nathan whispered, stepping back. But the flicker moved with him, as if drawn to his every step. The air felt thick, charged with an energy he didn't understand. He could hear it now—a faint whisper, like a low chant, rising and falling in a rhythm that made his skin prickle.

"Are you following me?" he said aloud, feeling foolish for talking to an illusion. But the flicker grew brighter, hovering in place as if waiting.

He laughed, a sound that was more nervous than amused. "I'm seriously losing it."

The flicker pulsed, and he felt a strange compulsion tugging at him, a pull that was both terrifying and irresistible. He took a hesitant step forward, then another, feeling his heart pound as he moved closer to the strange glow.

"What are you?" he whispered, reaching out instinctively.

The instant his hand brushed the edge of the flicker, the world twisted around him. His surroundings faded, and he found himself standing in an endless, dark void, shadows swirling and shifting all around him. He could hear the whispers now, clearer and more urgent, as though they were speaking directly into his mind.

"Come closer…"

Nathan stumbled back, but there was no place to go. He was alone in the dark, surrounded by shadows that seemed to reach out, trying to pull him deeper.

"Nathan…" The whisper was louder now, closer, as if it were speaking his name from every direction at once.

He turned, searching for the source of the voice. "Who's there? What do you want?"

The only response was a low, haunting laugh that echoed through the darkness, filling him with a cold dread. The flicker appeared again, this time in front of him, brighter and fiercer, its pulsing light casting eerie shadows across his face.

"Nathan…" The voice whispered again, softer now, almost tender. "You're close…so close…"

He closed his eyes, willing himself to wake up, to escape the nightmare. And then, as quickly as it had begun, the vision vanished. He was back in his room, sitting on his bed, his breaths coming fast and shallow. He stared at his hands, half-expecting to see the flicker still clinging to his skin.

"This isn't possible," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

The room was silent, but he could feel it—that strange presence, lingering in the air, waiting. He sat there, caught between terror and fascination, unable to shake the feeling that the flicker wasn't finished with him.

He reached for his phone, his fingers shaking as he dialed Sarah's number. She answered on the second ring, her voice warm and familiar.

"Nate? What's up?"

He hesitated, feeling ridiculous. "Sarah… I think there's something wrong with me."

There was a pause. "What do you mean?"

"The dreams…they're getting worse. I saw it again tonight. It was real, Sarah. It was right in front of me. And I… I think it's calling me."

"Nate, listen," she said gently, though there was a hint of concern in her voice. "You're just tired. You need a break. Get some rest, and if you're still feeling this way, maybe talk to someone."

"Yeah…" He forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow. "Maybe I should."

But as he hung up, he knew he couldn't shake it off that easily. The flicker was real, and whatever it was, it wasn't going away. He lay back, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come.

Just as his eyes started to close, he saw it again—the flicker, pulsing with a strange urgency, brighter than ever, as if it was calling him.

And deep down, he knew that sooner or later, he would answer.