Darkness filled the room. The air growing cold. You could see your own breath.
Clayton, couldn’t move. Paralyzed by fear. He could smell them. Hear the steps around the walls of the room. Feeling the weight shift in the bed as they lay down beside him. He was frozen on his side. A hand gripped his shoulder slowly, a piercing as if slowly being stabbed in the back.
A shadowed figure stood before him when he opened his eyes again.
“Harvest is coming.” It whispered.
Jack was on the outside of the bedroom door. Pounding it with his fists. Trying to get it open. Shaking it.
“Clayton! Clayton! Focus! Try to move your hand you will wake up!”
Clayton couldn’t hear it… everything was a vacuum of fog in his head. All he could hear was the whispering of voices in the cold room.
“I’m coming. Harvest is coming. ”
“This is real.” I said with disbelief. I don’t understand.
Clayton looked at me.
“I know what Harvest is I know what it means. He’s coming.”
Clayton put his face in his hands rubbing his eyes he looked up at me.
“The Reaper. Jack. This is real. and he’s coming.”