Mara thought of the tray of folded dreams, of the tenants who had begun losing pieces of themselves for the sake of a quiet house. She thought of Elliott's hollowed eyes and the bruise on his palm. She opened the journal and spoke the words she found there—simple, honest commands that the pages suggested were rites of keeping rather than possessing. "Give them back," she said aloud. The words were blunt, like commands to a dog.
"It is not an order," the creature answered; its voice sounded like pages turning. "It is appetite. I take what keeps me being. You will get thin. You will forget how to say no." The Nightmaretaker- The Man Possessed by the De...
It began with the dreams.