It began as a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach, a simmering anger that I couldn’t shake. Little things, like a coworker’s thoughtless comment or a traffic jam on my way home, triggered an intensity of rage that was disproportionate to the situation. I dismissed it as stress, but I couldn’t ignore the unsettling sensation that something was fundamentally wrong.
As days turned into weeks, my anger grew, twisting and contorting like a malevolent force taking root within me. It wasn’t just an emotion anymore; it was a presence, lurking in the darkest corners of my mind. I could feel its malevolence, a seething, otherworldly fury that defied explanation.
The first time I saw it, it was only a flicker in my peripheral vision. I turned my head, but there was nothing there. It was as if my anger had taken on a physical form, something that skittered away whenever I tried to confront it directly. I chalked it up to exhaustion, the mind playing tricks on me.
But then it happened again, and again. Each time, the glimpses became longer, more defined. It was a shadowy figure, twisted and contorted, with eyes that burned with the same rage I felt. I couldn’t deny it any longer; my anger was manifesting as something real, something sinister.
This entity, this embodiment of my wrath, seemed to revel in its newfound existence. It was no longer content to hide in the shadows. It slithered into my dreams, twisting them into nightmarish landscapes where I was consumed by an insatiable fury.
The creature, if that’s what it truly was, took on a form that defied comprehension. It appeared as a writhing mass of black tendrils, coalescing and unraveling in a grotesque dance. Its eyes, two fiery orbs, stared into my soul, each glance an accusation, a reminder of my own impotent rage.
As I struggled to understand what was happening to me, my friend Mark came over one evening. We had known each other since childhood, and he had always been the voice of reason in my life. But as he entered my home, his face contorted in a mixture of concern and fear.
“Dude, what’s going on with you?” Mark asked, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for something.
I sighed, unable to find the words to explain my torment. “I don’t know, Mark. I’ve been… changing. There’s something inside me, something that’s been feeding on my anger.”
Mark’s expression shifted from concern to disbelief. “Come on, man, don’t start with that supernatural crap. You need help, real help, like a therapist or something.”
I couldn’t blame him for his skepticism. It was absurd, unbelievable. But as I tried to persuade Mark, the creature stirred within me, its presence growing stronger. I could feel its influence creeping into my thoughts, stoking the fires of my anger.
That night, as Mark left my home, a terrible accident occurred. A car ran a red light at an intersection, slamming into Mark’s vehicle with horrifying force. The collision left his car mangled, and Mark was rushed to the hospital in critical condition.
I visited Mark in the hospital, guilt weighing heavily on my shoulders. I couldn’t help but wonder if the presence of my anger, the sinister entity that had taken residence within me, had somehow influenced the events leading up to the accident. Was it my rage that had caused this tragedy?
Mark was unconscious, his face battered and bruised. I sat by his bedside, tears welling up in my eyes as I grappled with the possibility that my own anger had harmed my best friend. The creature, sensing my despair, loomed in the corner of my vision, its form more distinct and grotesque than ever before.
Over the next few days, Mark’s condition remained critical. Doctors were unsure if he would ever wake up, and I was left to grapple with the weight of my own guilt and the malevolent presence that had taken control of my life.
I began to research ancient texts and occult knowledge, desperate to find a way to rid myself of this entity. But the creature fought back, intensifying my anger, making it harder to concentrate. It whispered dark thoughts into my mind, urging me to give in to the fury, to unleash it upon the world.
I knew I was running out of time. Mark’s life hung in the balance, and the sinister force within me threatened to consume everything I held dear. I had to find a way to confront this entity, to purge it from my soul before it destroyed me and everything I cared about.
As I stood at the precipice of a terrifying journey into the unknown, one thing became painfully clear: I had to face the wrath within me, or risk losing myself, and my friend, forever.