It was like I was trapped in a house that I could never call home. Trapped in a sense that I could leave but each time I tried I would always end up back there no matter what. I was drawn to the house like a moth drawn to flame. A moth drawn to it's demise as it flys into the heat of the flame and burns alive. But instead of a moth it is me, and Instead of a flame, a seemingly inconspicuous and averagely normal house.
The vibe I got from the house when I first encountered it was similar to what I felt watching that old movie monster house, it felt like the house was alive. Like the walls were breathing.
But it wasn't the house that provided this feeling, rather it was what the averagely normal walls of the house his inside.

Dispite the unnatural Vive the house have me, the irrational fear I had. I was as I mentioned, drawn to it. And so one day when a "for sale" sign showed up and the house went up on market for an unnervingly low price I found myself purchasing it. The realtor had seemed so very warey of the house when I'd made the purchase, mentioning that the reason the last family left was a little peculiar. That they had complained of a "paranormal" presence for the few months before a tragic accident occurred and the child of the family died in an "unconfirmed manner"
At the time it had definitely spooked me but I'd brushed it off, the draw of the house was suddenly stronger than the fear of it.

The first few weeks were normal, nothing but the small feeling of satisfaction as I settled into my house, but after those first few weeks was when the strange things started. Small at first just off-putting feelings here and the tricks of my eye there, thinking I had seen a shadow always dancing around just out of the corner of my eye just far enough out of sight that I could brush it off but visible enough to unnerve me into a mild paranoid state of uncertainty.
It was just me, it had always been just me, but now after a full month of living here the paranoia of the shadow just out of sight and the uneasy feeling it bought on accompanied by an odd... Scuttling... Like rodents in the wall. Which is ultimately what I'd decided to tell myself it was. So what if the realtor had mentioned the supernatural, I never did believe in ghosts or ghouls or any of that nonsense and this was not going to change that. Not yet.
Coming up on two months and the sounds now included scuttling, odd whispers which always seemed to be the same Volume no matter where in the house you stood, always loud enough to here but never enough to make coherent of what was being said.
The shadows seemed to be braver now, still staying out of direct veiw but now more visible to the point they are clearly undeniably there.
And now we come to the present, three months, four days exactly since I moved in and I can no longer deny it.
there is a shadow creature in the house. I have just been referring to it as the shadow or something stupid like that. All though I admit I have a feeling that it wants to be referred to as [] it's almost like it was whispered to me at night as I slept, but in a different language, one I shouldn't understand but like the unusual feeling the house had when it drew me to it I just seem to know this it what it wants.
I learnt pretty quickly how the entity played it's game. Not a game I wished to play but one I was now trapped in, unable to leave without first breaking away from the feeling of being drawn to the house. Trapped.
if the entity was in the room you had to look at it... it seemed to prefer it if you looked it in the face, or the general area a face would be if it had one, the entire time it is in the room. Keep acknowledging it until it leaves the room itself. I suppose one way I could describe the feeling of being trapped watching this creature is it's kinda like the weeping angles from doctor who, but your aloud to blink and Instead of a statue of an angle it's the vasta naveda shadow things that consume the flesh of their prey. I had always hated those episodes of doctor who.
I've found the only time it's ok not to look at it is if it enters the room while your sleeping or if it expressly says so for any reason, I figured this out as it had nodded ominously as I had woken one morning before speaking to me in that horrible whisper of a voice, in the language I shouldn't understand at a volume that Never changed. It also seemed to have the ability to mess with technology to pull up writing to communicate, which I guess I appreciate a hell of a lot more than that horrible whispering. It had left me a note once on my phone by pulling up my contacts list and messaging me using my long deceased aunt's disabled phone number. A simple message, simple but none the less as ominous as everything else about the creature. 'you are good at this game, I like playing this game with you'
I had brushed this off and simply nodded to it as it entered the room a gesture it returned seemingly knowing what I had meant without me saying so. Feed
I know in my heart and my head that I should be terrified by the creature. But the draw to it seemed to nulify any fear, and it became just another part of my everyday life. One which I had even factored into my daily schedule. The creature seemed to even enjoy that it was a routine now rather than a random Inconvenience to me daily like it had started as.
As the days go on I grow to rather... Enjoy... The company of the creature. I've never much been one to embrace socializing, I've never been one for forming friendships and I grew distanced from those who I did know only really staying in contact for them. So it was oddly comforting to have company which has minimal expectations. Just acknowledge and observe it when it's in the room and go on withy day.
I'd even started offering it tea or water when I sit and watch it. It never drinks but seems to appreciate the gesture none the less.
I hadn't really thought of it to be a malicious or harmful entity, saying that I wouldn't ever dare to not play along to the game just in case. But then one day I came to realize two things. What happens when you don't play the game properly, and why the previous family had moved, what the "accident" that killed their child was.

It was horrifying to watch happen. Especially knowing that this had happened to that child as well. My poor mother, who had come to visit me with the claims that locking myself away in my home wasn't good for me, that I'd never meet people and make friends and fall in love all cooped up at home. My poor mother...
Who was now nothing more than a stain on my living room carpet and a mangled corpse.
"A closed casket funeral it is then" I'd commented coldly as I stared blankly at the creature waiting for it to leave so I could make the call to have the bits of my mother cleaned up, the calls to my family to break the news that she'd been in a horrible accident, horrible indeed. Oh the horrors, it was only made worse by the fact i had sat to watch the entire thing, and the pot of tea is made was not ruined by the bits, and I'd have to change now too, a shame really this was such a lovely shirt too.
And finally, as the creature skunk off to a different room leaving with a nod and those horrible whispers which I have grown to love, whispers which I shouldn't understand but do, which I just know means 'sorry about the mess, but she didn't play the game,' and I just had to nod and agree, she didn't play the game. Not at all. No she had Instead screamed and made a scene about it, about my good friend []
It didn't like that, I didn't like that, I found it rather rude of her, it didn't like that she was not playing along to the game, that she was being so rude as to turn down the game as she did.
It was the first time id ever heard the wispers as more than a whisper. The first time that it had been genuinely angry in my presence. But oh it wasn't the last, no, I found myself drawn to invite more people around to play the game, many didn't play, and those many died, but few did, and they either "escaped" as they had put it once they had left, it was almost more amusing to see them labeled as raving lunitics than it was to see them punished for not playing the game.

That feeling that first drew me to the house now drew me to entrap others in and watch as it would toy with them and edge them on to play the game, those that didn't were torn apart by the unseen force of the creature, the actual creature and not just the shadow cast on the walls. Those that did play along would bolt first chance and leave us behind, return to their lives only to be called mad and sent off to asylums and such. The police would come to check on reports of missing people last seen in my house, and they would then either Join the dead or join the mad. It soon became less about the game and the thrill of watching those who refused to play, and more about the hunt for someone who would, someone who truly wanted to play and who loved the game as much as the creature and I did. But after years of playing, after the hundreds of times people had refused to play, we both grew to lose hope in ever finding anyone who would play. But we're were ok with that, we had each other for company after all, and it was out home.