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I am not quite sure what it was, but every time we went to our cottage in Poland, I felt this uneasiness. I cannot explain what made me feel like this in the first place, but I knew after a few years that my feelings were not just a hunch.

When I was six years old, we, yet again, stayed in the cottage. I was not feeling well, so I went to bed earlier, while my parent went off to some friends in the area. I lied in bed, trying to get some sleep, but I could not. My back hurts, not the pain you experience, when your muscles contract, or when your spine hurts. No, it was more penetrating. It felt like needles, fine tiny needles. Piercing through my skin, through my muscles.

I could not breathe, I could not move nor turn around. I felt it staring at me. Breathing in my ear. I passed out, out of fear. The next morning I told my parents what had happened, They told me, that there could not be anything inside my room, they assured me, it was all a dream.

The next night, I felt it again. More aggressive, more penetrant. I tried to cry out for my parents, but my throat was corded up. I moved my head a bit, so I could see behind me, and only two red orbs were staring back, out of the window. No, not out the window, in front of it.

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