He continually glanced from the spot on the wall to the clock. Back and forth, his eyes shot from place to place.
The spot was only in appearance between dusk and dawn. As soon as the sun rose, the hideous thing would vanish. It always did.
And it drove him mad.
Weeks it had been; weeks without sleep for fearing that wretched blotch would finally break free of the wall in which It was encased and swallow him up. It was waiting for him. Waiting for him to fall asleep. Waiting to gobble him up. Waiting to eat his teeth and tendons.
‘Four hours until sunrise,’ he mumbled in his mind.
The splotch began to squirm. It was anxious.
‘Not tonight. You won’t get me tonight.’
The dark, moldering spot on his wall spread, its tiny tendrils appearing like veins that slid through the plaster. He felt the pulse of fury it sent through the air. It couldn’t get him if he was awake.
The center of the beast in his wall stretched, deforming from plaster to something visc