I wake up in bed, my room frigid and my breath puffing out before my face. The windows and door frame are covered with ice, and icicles are beginning to form on the walls.
There is a figure standing in the doorway.
The shadowperson wants my body heat, having spent too long out in the cold.
The shadowperson steps through the doorway, and I try to scream, but my mouth has frozen over. The figure creeps closer and closer, until they loom over me in my bed. I have tried to move, desperate to leap out of bed and run for the door, but the cold stops my limbs from responding.
The shadowperson reaches out, and lays its hands on me. It isn’t cold or hot, but feels absent instead. Slowly, the shadowperson pushes me across the bed and towards the edge, all the while squeezing its massive body onto the bed in place of mine. It replaces my body with its own under the warmth of the covers, desperate to escape the cold. Uncovered, I will freeze to death.
I angrily huff out wisps of frozen air, and the slight warmth from my nostrils manages to thaw out my mouth. I am still frozen in place, but can at least speak again. I plead with it, begging it to not let me freeze, to at the very least share the warmth, hoping that some commonality between myself and the shadow will get it to show mercy. It doesn’t listen. Instead it turns itself away from me, its featureless face to the wall, pulling the covers closer around it’s half-intangible body. I fall from the bed towards the frozen floor and its sea of deadly ice, tumbling towards impalement on the icy stalagmites that have risen up. I try to reach out my arms and catch hold of something, but my body is still frozen.
I wake up again, for real this time, my room cold but not frigid, and my blankets thrown off myself, tangled about me feet and keeping me from kicking out.
When I wake up, when my limbs can move again, I have kicked the covers off myself, and they lie tangled around my feet and trailing off the bed and to the floor.