Allie Loud, the adopted daughter of Luna and Sam, paced anxiously around her bedroom on the evening of July 25. A short, thin girl with dirty blond hair and sharp features, she wore a pair of checkered lounge pants and a purple T-shirt with glittery writing on the front. The latter wasn't really her style, but in the Loud family, hand-me-downs were a way of life.

It was just past nine o'clock and she was starting to get sleepy despite all the coffee and Monsters she had taken in. How long could someone go without sleep before they collapsed? Less than a week, she thought. When was the last time she slept? She wracked her fuzzy brain but couldn't remember. She had dozed a few times during the day but snapped herself awake after a few minutes, heart pounding. During the long, endless nights, she walked around the room, did jumping jacks, and tried to distract herself from how tired she was.

It all began a week ago, maybe two. She went to bed like normal but woke disoriented and scared sometime later. The room was dark and she couldn't see, but she knew that something was there with her, something menacing and dangerous. She was paralized with fear and could barely move her limbs. She felt an evil presence standing over her and turned her head to see a black, hulking shadow. Something inside of her snapped and she quickly turned on the bedside lamp.

There was nothing there.

The dream had been so real, so life-like, that she was almost certain it hadn't been a dream at all. She told Luna about it and the woman nodded her sympathy. "Sleep paralysis," she said, "it happened to me a couple times. That shit's mad scary."

Sleep paralysis, Luna said, happened when your mind woke up but your body stayed asleep. You were literally paralized and your mind played tricks on you. That's how she put it, at least. She looked it up on Wikipedia for a more detailed answer, since she was curious like that.

Sleep paralysis is a state, during waking up or falling asleep, in which a person is aware but unable to move or speak. During an episode, one may hallucinate (hear, feel, or see things that are not there), which often results in fear. Episodes generally last less than a couple of minutes. It may occur as a single episode or be recurrent.

The next night, she took a deep breath and laid down in bed. Would it happen again? Would she wake up locked in her own body and unable to move as hallucinations swirled around her like insane laughing in the pits of hell? She didn't know and she was terrified to find out.

It took her a long time to fall asleep.

And sure enough, it happened again.

She came totally awake in the darkness, her body struck dumb and her eyes straining from their sockets. Blood roared in her head and her heart slammed painfully into her ribcage. She told herself that it was all a dream and that she would wake up from it at any moment, but a sense of dread and danger pressed down on her chest like a pile of stones. Something moved in the corner of her vision and all she could do was squeeze her eyes closed and wait for it to pass. For a long time, nothing happened, but she could feel a presence, as if someone were standing over her. Finally, something brushed her cheek and all at once, the spell shattered. She sat bolt upright and screamed so hard her vision turned gray at the edges.

It couldn't have been more than five seconds later that the door burst open and the light snapped on. Her older brother Lindemann stood in the doorway in a white T shirt and blue boxer shorts, one hand pressed to the door jamb and the other clutching a Glock. "What is it?" he asked, a hint of fear in his voice. He probably thought it was a rival gang member trying to kill him and everyone else at the house.

Allie turned to point out the creature, but like before, there was nothing. She could have sworn this time. In fact, she did swear. She could have hallucinated the shape in the corner of her eye but there was no way she could have imagined that icy hand brushing her cheek. And that's what it was, a hand; she could feel it lingering on her skin even hours later and every time she thought back to it, a shiver streaked down her spine. She told Sam and Luna about it but that didn't do much good; they were both convinced that it was sleep paralysis. Allie couldn't blame them for not believing her; as she heard herself put it into words, she realized how it sounded.

And maybe it was just sleep paralysis. Maybe none of it was real and she was just overreacting like a big baby.

Something told her that that assessment was wrong and that there was something in her room. What, she didn't know. A ghost? An invisible man? Whatever it was, it was evil.

The next night, she sat awake in bed waiting for it to come, but it never did. The night after that, however, she fell asleep sitting up and had the worst dream yet. She called it a dream because it didn't play out like her first two episodes. In it, she was sitting up in bed just like she had been when she fell asleep. The lamp was on and the light formed a wide circle that held back the shadows like a dam. Something woke her and she lifted her head, which weighed a thousand pounds. She listened, and a scratch came at the window, like a branch scraping the glass. She watched through bleary eyes as the sash raised and the curtains fluttered.

Just then, the lamp went out, plunging the room into darkness. Moments later, a black figure crawled through the window, its long arms stretching out on either side of it and its jagged nails digging into the plaster. She did not know how she saw the latter but she did.

Once inside, the thing stood to its full height - five feet, six feet, seven - and turned to look at her. Its eyes glowed white and an excited clicking rose from its unseen maw. Her heart turned to ice and splashed into her stomach, and all of the air squeezed out of her lungs. It advanced and she tried to scream, but it came out as a breathless wheeze instead. She watched it come, powerless to move or even to think. It stopped at the foot of the bed and stared at her with those burning eyes. Allie tried to form a scream but her throat was closed and her vocal cords refused to work, rendering her voiceless. The thing crept alongside the bed, its movements slow and deliberate, and Allie closed her eyes. She felt rather than saw the creature looming over her, so close that she could reach out and poke it. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and the stale stench of the grave violated her senses. When its long, crooked fingers tangled in her hair, goosebumps raked her flesh and she began to tremble. When it's hot breath broke against her neck, tears started to stream from her eyes.

A fog descended over her and she couldn't remember anything beyond that. In the morning, she snapped awake with a start. The room was filled with sunshine and the singing of birds, and there was no evidence of what had happened the night before.

Remembering the way the monster's nails dug into the plaster, she got up and went to the window. When she saw the gouges in the wall, her blood ran cold.

It was real.

Presently, she sat down on the bed and hugged her knees to her chest. Her eyelids drooped and her head started to nod, but she forced herself to stay awake. If she slept, the thing would come back, she just knew it. Even though it was warm in the room, she shivered, and when she touched her arm, the skin was icy. She pulled the blanket up to her chest and sat back against the headboard. Her eyes started to close again and she pried them back open. She was getting drowsy and her head felt like it was stuffed with warm cotton. If she didn't get up and start moving around, she was going to fall asleep.

In a minute. She was warm and comfy and didn't feel like getting up.

Her eyes fell closed one final time, and her brain screamed at her to wake up. She tossed her head from side to side, but barely stirred. She felt herself sinking into the warm embrace of sleep and her heart jumped into her throat; she was trapped like a swimmer in a riptide and all she could do was allow it to pull her down.

Just like that, she was asleep.

In her dreams, the lamp went out and the window lifted on squeaking hinges. The curtains fluttered like ghosts in the icy wind and a paralyzing feeling of pins and needles came over her. A long arm reached in, and then another, gripping the window frame. The creature pulled itself in, and Allie caught a glimpse of its terrible white face in an errant shaft of moonlight. Her heart seized and she tried to move, but her limbs were heavy and numb, like she had been drugged. The thing came into the room and walked calmly over, its eyes blazing white and that strange clicking noise emanating from its mouth. Allie started to cry, and when it buried its face in the crook of her neck, her mouth fell open in a silent scream. Mandibles like that of an ant pierced her skin and the mist in her brain thickened, blotting out all thought and feeling. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she knew no more.

When she woke the next morning, her eyelids were heavy and her eyes themselves grainy and aching. She was still sitting up, her head lolling to one side, and when she moved, her neck was stiff. She winced and sat up straighter, pains riddling her body. She was groggy and weak and the effort that it took to lift her head drained her.

The memory of last night's dream came to her and her heart burst. She pressed her fingers to the slope of her throat and they came away dry, but her touch stung, as though there were a wound there. She swallowed thickly and forced herself to get up. She hobbled into the bathroom, pausing to lean against the door jamb and rest. She snapped the light on and studied her haggard face in the dirty mirror over the sink, too scared to turn her head and gaze upon her neck. If there was something there, any faint hope she had of this all being a terrible dream would evaporate and she would be forced to confront the fact that whatever was happening to her was real.

Finally, she turned to the side and looked.

Two long, jagged slits marred her flesh. The skin around them was pink and puffy. It looked like they were mostly healed, as though they had suffered them days or even a week ago. She was certain that she had not. When she went to bed the night before, there was nothing wrong with her neck. She knew it.

Or was she crazy?

Allie's head spun and she pressed her fingertips to her temple. She felt like she was going to pass out.

She had to talk to someone, and only one person would believe her.

Maybe.

She found Lindemann in the kitchen with Aunt Luan, who wore a silk robe and slippers. Mom and Sam were still in bed. "You feeling alright?" Luan asked when Allie walked in. "You look sick."

Allie sat at the table. "I have a problem."

"What is it?" Lindemann asked.

She brushed her hair aside and showed him the wound. "Do you see this?"

Lindemann blinked, indicating that he did. "What happened?"

She told him and Luan about the dream, and the two of them exchanged an uneasy glance. "That's a little hard to believe," Luan said when she was finished.

"I know," Allie said, "but it happened."

Lindemann sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Alright," he said, "if it's true, who do you think it is? Some kind of pervert?"

Allie didn't know, but she had an idea. An idea she was afraid to share it. "Can a pervert hypnotize you?" she asked.

"No," Lindemann said, "but...what could it be? A vampire?"

He laughed but Allie didn't.

"I have an idea," Luan said.

That night, Allie got into bed while Lindemann crouched in the closet with his Glock. Allie turned the lights out, rolled over, and snuggled up with her blankets. Lindemann watched her through the crack between the door and the jamb, his finger caressing the trigger guard. To pass time, he texted with Luan, who waited in the living room with the lights out just in case the intruder came in that way. Lindemann didn't know if this creep was going to show up or not but he hoped he did so he could blow his fucking head off.

Was it just a creep, though? From what Allie described, it sounded more like a monster than a man. He didn't think she was exaggerating or being dramatic; she was a level-headed girl and if she said this thing had burning white eyes and mandibles, it either did or somehow convinced her it did. A mask, maybe? Contacts? He didn't know but he was too practical to believe in the bogeyman.

Still, a lump of suspense formed in his throat and his heart throbbed insistently.

Just before two in the morning, Lindemann started to feel drowsy. His chin lulled against his chest and darkness stole over his mind. Just before he dropped off, a strange squeaking sound roused him. He opened his eyes and peered out into the room.

The window was open and the curtains fluttering in the breeze.

It had been closed just a moment before.

Pushing the door open a little more, he poked his head out, and that's when he saw it.

A dark form bent over Allie, its face buried in her neck. Lindemann's stomach launched into his throat. He jumped to his feet and shoved the door open. He snapped the light on and aimed the gun. "Freeze, you piece…"

The creature looked up and the words died on Lindemann's lips.

Its face was a study in the grotesque. Its eyes were large and milky white, its flesh tight and sallow against its misshapen skull. Sharp pinchers snapped open and closed around its slitted mouth and drool coursed down its chin. It wore a tattered and torn trench coat covered in dirt and its rat-like ears quivered as though they were tasting the air. It issued a low, threatening hiss, and panicking, Lindemann squeezed the trigger. The first round hit it in the chest and the second tore out its throat, splattering the wall behind it with neon green goo. Letting out a howl of pain, the creature spun in a swish of coat and dove out the window. Lindemann gave chase, stopping at the sill and watching it hobbling off into the night.

Without a second thought, he jumped out the window and pursued it. He lost sight of it near the park, but he followed the trail of goo to the cemetery. The trail terminated at an ancient mausoleum. Lindemann forced the door open and went inside. Ahead, a stone coffin sat on a pedestal, the goo leading right to it. Lindemann went to it and pushed aside the lid. '

The monster lay within, its long, spindly fingers laced over its chest. Lindemann gaped disbelievingly down at its upturned face. Its eyes were closed and its pinchers clamped together. It resembled an ant, a rat, and a human corpse, but was none of those things. Lindemann had never seen anything like it before and some deep, primal part of his brain told him that it wasn't even of this world.

He had to kill it.

Leaving it where it was, he hurried back home and fetched a gas can from the shed. He was just finishing up when Luan came out with a flashlight. "What happened?" she asked, a hint of fear in her voice. "There was a gunshot and then you were gone."

"Allie was right," he said, "it's not a person."

Luan looked confused. "What?"

"Come on," he said, "we gotta stop it."

They drove back to the cemetery in Luan's car, Luan driving. "I don't know what's going on and I wish you'd tell me," she said.

"You'll see."

At the crypt, they went in and Lindemann led her to the coffin. When she saw what was inside, her hand went to her mouth. "Oh my God."

"Stand back," he said.

He splashed gasoline all over the sleeping monster and then tossed the can away. He struck a match, hesitated, transfixed by the creature's otherworldly features, then dropped the match in. The gas caught with a whump and the thing went up in flames. Its eyes flew open and it emitted a high pitched screech that hurt Lindemann and Luan's ears. It tossed its head and thrashed, but its skin was quickly melting from its frame and its movements weakened.

The flames crackled as they consumed the monster, and before long, they snuffed out, leaving only ash and charred bones behind.

Luan swooned and Lindemann helped her out to the car. At home, he carried her inside and laid her on the couch. Allie came into the room and sat down. "What happened?" she asked.

"Nothing," Lindemann said, "it's over."

"What was it?"

"Don't worry about it," he said, not wanting to burden her with the terrible knowledge that he now possessed.

"But -"

"Go to bed," he snapped. "It's over."

Only it wasn't. For him, it would never be over. Every night, in his dreams, he lived that night over and over again. And the worst part was that he didn't know if they were nightmares…

...or if they were real.