The sun was setting on the small town of Willowdale, casting long shadows across the quiet streets. It was the time of day that most people avoided, when the darkness seemed to seep out from the corners of the world and wrap itself around everything.

But for Sarah, the darkness was a comfort. She had always been drawn to the night, to the silence and the solitude that it brought. She loved the way the world seemed to slow down and quiet itself, as if it were holding its breath in anticipation of what was to come.

As she walked down the deserted street, Sarah felt a strange sense of unease. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched, that unseen eyes were following her every move. She quickened her pace, her heart pounding in her chest.

But no matter how fast she walked, the feeling of being watched only grew stronger. She could feel the presence behind her, its cold breath on the back of her neck. She tried to run, but her legs felt heavy and sluggish, as if she were wading through water.

Just when she thought she couldn't take it any longer, a hand reached out from the darkness and grabbed her arm. She screamed, but the sound was muffled by the cold, clammy hand that covered her mouth.

She struggled against her attacker, but it was no use. The hand that held her was strong and unyielding, and she knew that she was powerless to escape.

As the darkness closed in around her, Sarah knew that she was going to die. And in that moment, she realized that the true terror of the night was not the darkness itself, but what lurked within it.