Nightshade

Awakening in the dead of the night, Florence could hear the footsteps.

The pale, dying-ember orange of her lit candle washed across the polished wooden floorboards and smooth oak walls that winded through her cabin’s dark hallways. Florence watched where the candlelight strayed into the darkness.

Her eyes were pure-black pools of night, that you could swim down within for hours and never reach the bottom. They searched the room’s pitch-black corners with ease, which was their gift, as they couldn’t see at all in daylight. On a shelf, there was a large, glass container, that had many butterflies resting within it, wings closed.

Florence heard the footsteps getting louder, and she became unsure to whether the sound was coming from inside or out. Some of the toys on her table began to shake slightly and Florence began to shake with them, involuntarily. She knew their arrival was imminent.

Her fingers brushed to her necklace, which was made up of many deadly nightshade berries on a string. Onto her chest. Oddly, no heartbeat.

Something slammed on the door. Whatever was on the other side of the door pounded heavier than any knock that could’ve been made by a human, and with the knocks came the sound of the door’s hinges snapping, the wood splintering slightly.

The shadows collected into the figure of a dark creature, the candlelight materializing into its eyes, which were bright and vibrant against its pitch-black fur. Its tongue lolled out of its open mouth, baring dove-white teeth that jutted from every corner like a thicket of thorns. It stared at her. There was a single nightshade flower on its chest, its pale green vine snaking up its legs, that looked to be an emblem of some sorts, like one a knight may wear into battle.