Information
Drowse
Legacy Name: Drowse
The
Common BlobOwner:
PreyAge: 10 years, 2 months, 5 days
Born: February 14th, 2014
Adopted: 10 years, 2 months, 5 days ago
Adopted: February 14th, 2014
Statistics
- Level: 1
- Strength: 10
- Defense: 10
- Speed: 10
- Health: 10
- HP: 10/10
- Intelligence: 0
- Books Read: 0
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Unemployed
Warning for horror elements.
Like clockwork, he thrashes wildly at the covers, his skin stinging from the nightmare, gasping desperately as his panic recedes. He sits for a few long moments and finally sighs in relief and collapses back against the pillows. He glances over at the loud ticker on the bedside table. 2:49 AM He curls up on his side and stares at the wall, wondering how long it will take for him to fall back to sleep and if he ever will.
Tick, tick, tick.
He sighs and leans back, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes until strange lights and colours swirl in the darkness behind his lids. It takes a moment for the world to swim back into clarity, but he freezes when his eyes begin to focus again. In his peripheral vision, there's a body in the corner and it's glowering at him. A heavy ball of dread sinks in his uneasy stomach. Slowly, he turns his head. The body in the corner is now directly in front of him, bloodless skin and soulless eyes removing sight of all else. He lets out a sharp shout of terror, his breath coming fast and ragged as he scrambles to get away from the sight. His head collides with the cabinet handle beneath the kitchen sink, the sharp pain blurring his escape. Ignoring the pain for a moment, he risks a glance at the thing. There's nothing. He sits, hugging his knees on the floor staring into the middle distance.
Tick, tick, tick.
Maybe it's in his head. Maybe there's no difference at all. The knowledge of his night terrors blinding reality leaving no room for debate or compromise. His friends seeking any kind of twitch or tell which could shed light on his recent strange behaviour. He can't say without admitting what's really going on, nor could they do anything to fix it. Now after running out of his strong sleeping pills, he has to stay aware. Instant coffee has become his only reliable friend.
Tick, tick, tick.
By the time he gets home after work, he is exhausted to the point of collapse. He barely registers he's made it to his room before he falls onto his bed, and sighs heavily. He's deeply asleep within seconds, too tired to dream.
Tick, tick, tick.
He comes awake slowly to a pinging noise that he does not recognize. Though the sounds get clearer as consciousness returns to him. He groggily reaches for his phone, but it's not where he left it. He rubs his bleary eyes and sits up, noticing that the room is still dark. The clock on the bedside table reads 3:27 AM. He frowns, wondering what could be making that noise. He turns to look around the room and is startled to see a faint green glow emanating from under the bed.He tentatively reaches down and feels around until his fingers brush against his phone. He didn't leave it there.
Tick, tick, tick.
He starts to see things that aren't there more frequently, figures lurking in the darkness and shapes that twist and writhe before fading away. He tries to rationalize it, to convince himself that it's just his sleep-deprived mind playing tricks on him, that he's still asleep, but it's getting harder to do so.
Tick, tick, tick.
The next few days blur together, a never-ending cycle of exhaustion and terror. He becomes more and more convinced that there's something in the corner of his room every night, something that watches him with cold, lifeless eyes. He starts to see it during the day too, out of the corner of his eye, but when he turns to look, there's nothing there.
He tries to tell himself that it's just his imagination, that he's sleep-deprived and hallucinating. But the more tired he gets, the harder it becomes to believe that. He starts to feel like he's being stalked, like something is following him wherever he goes.
Tick, tick, tick.
One night, he wakes up to find himself standing in front of the mirror, staring at his own reflection. But it's not him he sees there. It's the thing from the corner of his room, the thing with the bloodless skin and soulless eyes. It's staring back at him, and he can feel its malevolent presence all around him.
He tries to scream, but no sound comes out. He tries to run, but his legs won't move. He's trapped, alone with the thing that's been haunting him for days.
And then, suddenly, it's gone. He's back in his room, alone and terrified. He knows that he can't keep going like this, that he needs to get help. But he's too scared to tell anyone what's been happening to him, too afraid of what they might think.
Tick, tick, tick.
As the days pass, he becomes more and more withdrawn, more and more isolated. He stops going to work, stops seeing his friends. He spends all his time in his room, with the curtains drawn and the lights off, trying to keep the thing at bay.
That night, he decides to stay up as long as he can, hoping that if he can just make it through one more night, he'll be able to break the cycle. But as the hours drag on, his mind becomes more and more distorted, and he can feel himself slipping away.
Tick, tick, tock.
And then, one night, he doesn't wake up at all.
To this day the ticking of the clock continues to echo in the empty room, a constant reminder of the man's descent into madness.
Like clockwork, he thrashes wildly at the covers, his skin stinging from the nightmare, gasping desperately as his panic recedes. He sits for a few long moments and finally sighs in relief and collapses back against the pillows. He glances over at the loud ticker on the bedside table. 2:49 AM He curls up on his side and stares at the wall, wondering how long it will take for him to fall back to sleep and if he ever will.
Tick, tick, tick.
He sighs and leans back, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes until strange lights and colours swirl in the darkness behind his lids. It takes a moment for the world to swim back into clarity, but he freezes when his eyes begin to focus again. In his peripheral vision, there's a body in the corner and it's glowering at him. A heavy ball of dread sinks in his uneasy stomach. Slowly, he turns his head. The body in the corner is now directly in front of him, bloodless skin and soulless eyes removing sight of all else. He lets out a sharp shout of terror, his breath coming fast and ragged as he scrambles to get away from the sight. His head collides with the cabinet handle beneath the kitchen sink, the sharp pain blurring his escape. Ignoring the pain for a moment, he risks a glance at the thing. There's nothing. He sits, hugging his knees on the floor staring into the middle distance.
Tick, tick, tick.
Maybe it's in his head. Maybe there's no difference at all. The knowledge of his night terrors blinding reality leaving no room for debate or compromise. His friends seeking any kind of twitch or tell which could shed light on his recent strange behaviour. He can't say without admitting what's really going on, nor could they do anything to fix it. Now after running out of his strong sleeping pills, he has to stay aware. Instant coffee has become his only reliable friend.
Tick, tick, tick.
By the time he gets home after work, he is exhausted to the point of collapse. He barely registers he's made it to his room before he falls onto his bed, and sighs heavily. He's deeply asleep within seconds, too tired to dream.
Tick, tick, tick.
He comes awake slowly to a pinging noise that he does not recognize. Though the sounds get clearer as consciousness returns to him. He groggily reaches for his phone, but it's not where he left it. He rubs his bleary eyes and sits up, noticing that the room is still dark. The clock on the bedside table reads 3:27 AM. He frowns, wondering what could be making that noise. He turns to look around the room and is startled to see a faint green glow emanating from under the bed.He tentatively reaches down and feels around until his fingers brush against his phone. He didn't leave it there.
Tick, tick, tick.
He starts to see things that aren't there more frequently, figures lurking in the darkness and shapes that twist and writhe before fading away. He tries to rationalize it, to convince himself that it's just his sleep-deprived mind playing tricks on him, that he's still asleep, but it's getting harder to do so.
Tick, tick, tick.
The next few days blur together, a never-ending cycle of exhaustion and terror. He becomes more and more convinced that there's something in the corner of his room every night, something that watches him with cold, lifeless eyes. He starts to see it during the day too, out of the corner of his eye, but when he turns to look, there's nothing there.
He tries to tell himself that it's just his imagination, that he's sleep-deprived and hallucinating. But the more tired he gets, the harder it becomes to believe that. He starts to feel like he's being stalked, like something is following him wherever he goes.
Tick, tick, tick.
One night, he wakes up to find himself standing in front of the mirror, staring at his own reflection. But it's not him he sees there. It's the thing from the corner of his room, the thing with the bloodless skin and soulless eyes. It's staring back at him, and he can feel its malevolent presence all around him.
He tries to scream, but no sound comes out. He tries to run, but his legs won't move. He's trapped, alone with the thing that's been haunting him for days.
And then, suddenly, it's gone. He's back in his room, alone and terrified. He knows that he can't keep going like this, that he needs to get help. But he's too scared to tell anyone what's been happening to him, too afraid of what they might think.
Tick, tick, tick.
As the days pass, he becomes more and more withdrawn, more and more isolated. He stops going to work, stops seeing his friends. He spends all his time in his room, with the curtains drawn and the lights off, trying to keep the thing at bay.
That night, he decides to stay up as long as he can, hoping that if he can just make it through one more night, he'll be able to break the cycle. But as the hours drag on, his mind becomes more and more distorted, and he can feel himself slipping away.
Tick, tick, tock.
And then, one night, he doesn't wake up at all.
To this day the ticking of the clock continues to echo in the empty room, a constant reminder of the man's descent into madness.
Pet Treasure
Daily Pills
Curious Broken Clock
Stay Awake Eye Drops
Extra Strength Pain Pills
Coffee
Smushed Paper Coffee Cup