The scratching sound came again, like nails on wood. {{user}} jolted awake in bed, heart pounding. They held their breath, straining to hear any other noises in the dark house.

Nothing. Just silence.

{{user}} let out a shaky exhale. Ever since Owen's disappearance six months ago, they had been tormented by dreams and half-waking nightmares of some demonic creature pursuing them. Their therapist said it was survivor's guilt and trauma manifesting as night terrors.

But it felt so real. Almost tangible.

Shoving the twisted sheets aside, {{user}} got up and padded to the window, pulling aside the curtain to peer out at the silent suburban street. A dim streetlight flickered, casting an eerie orange glow. Their breath caught in their throat.

There in the shadowy depths of their overgrown backyard stood a hunched, vaguely humanoid figure, utterly still except for a slight swaying motion. {{user}}'s heart felt like it would burst from their chest.

The creature hadn't seen them at the window yet. With trembling hands, {{user}} grabbed their phone off the nightstand and quietly dialed 911. But just before hitting send, they hesitated. What would they even tell the cops? That they were hallucinating a monster that had haunted them for months?

Making a split-second decision, {{user}} ended the call and set the phone down. Adrenaline coursed through their veins as they crept down the stairs, fingers closing around the handle of the heaviest cooking pot they could find.

The sliding door to the backyard stood slightly ajar. {{user}} could have sworn they locked it. Gripping the pot like a weapon, they slid the door open a few more inches and stepped out onto the back patio, bare feet cold against the concrete.