Jon hadn't pulled an all-nighter like this since college. 36 hours, five cups of coffee, and one completed report later, his body now begged for rest. With heavy eyes and a heavier head, he submitted to the calling of the mattress and let himself sink deep. He took one last glance to the cat purring at his feet, sighed "Goodnight, Garfield," and drifted off.
.
But then, a pressure on his leg. Garfield, move, he thought, and kicked lightly. The pressure jumped to his chest. Light at first, then heavy. This damn cat, and he opened his mouth to scold him-- but nothing came out.
.
I… I can't speak.
.
The pressure increased.
.
I can't breathe.
.
It was impossibly heavy.
.
I can't move.
.
A high pitched ring pierced the room as a numbness struck his entire being. Through the pins and needles, Jon strained open his eyelids only to meet a set of eyes amidst a massive darkness inches from his face. Small white pupils glowed deep within gaping hollowed sockets, unblinking. Jon stared back in frozen, muted horror as its bony hands pressed deeper on his chest, making his bed creak. The shadow leaned in slow, and whispered through needles of teeth set in a grimace: "Goodnight, Jon."