SCP-513
Arthur brought the corroded bell home and gave it a single, playful shake. The sound was flat and loud. He felt a brief shiver. That evening, while brushing his teeth, he saw a tall, grey blur in the bathroom mirror. When he turned, there was nothing but his laundry basket. He couldn’t look at a corner without seeing long, spindly fingers curling around the doorframe. Every time Arthur whipped his head around, the entity slipped just out of view. His heart rate stayed at a steady 110 bpm. He hadn't slept more than two hours; every time he drifted off, he felt a cold presence standing directly behind his headboard. Exhaustion turned into a physical weight. Arthur tried to sleep in a brightly lit room, but as soon as his eyes closed, the silence was broken. It wasn't a bell anymore; it was the sound of heavy, wet breathing right against his ear. If he opened his eyes, the room was empty. If he kept them closed, he felt a leathery hand hovering an inch above his face. Arthur’s r...