The gift?

I’ve spent the last few hours avoiding my closet like it’s the eighth circle of hell. Which, at this point, it probably is.

Every creak, scratch, and weird sound from the walls makes me jump like I’m auditioning for a horror movie nobody asked for.

I’ve Googled everything. Spirit possession? Nah. Paranormal raccoon infestations? Also no hits.

So, the logical next step: confront the creepy thing living in my walls.

I armed myself with a flashlight, the baseball bat (still a multipurpose tool), and… a jar of pickles. Because apparently, pickles are now my spirit animal.

Standing in front of the closet, I took a deep breath and muttered, “Alright, buddy. I don’t know who you are or what you want, but can we talk this out before I lose my mind?”

I opened the door.

Nothing.

I stepped inside.

Still nothing.

Then the door slammed shut behind me.

I yelped and spun around, flashlight beam darting wildly.

A soft chuckle echoed from somewhere nearby.

“Hey,” I called out, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m not here to fight. I just want to understand.”

A shadow flickered on the wall.

Then, slowly, a figure stepped forward.

Not quite human. Not quite animal. Somewhere in between, with gleaming eyes that reflected the light like twin moons.

“Finally,” it said, voice like silk wrapped in gravel. “We’ve been waiting.”

I swallowed. Pickles suddenly seemed less appealing.

“Waiting for what?” I asked, trying to sound braver than I felt.

“For me?” I swallowed hard. “Who... who are you?”

“I am called Varin. I am one of the spirits bound to those who carry the Gift.”

“The Gift?” I echoed, confused.

“The power that allows you to shift, to connect to the animal within. It is rare. It is dangerous. And it chooses its bearer carefully.”

I shivered. “Why me?”

Varin’s gaze softened slightly. “Because you are the key to what is coming. But your shifts are unstable — the faster they come, the harder it will be to hold on to yourself.”

I looked down at my trembling hands.

“So… what now?”

“You must learn control. Find others like you. There is more at stake than you realize.”

Before I could ask more, the figure stepped back, dissolving into a swirl of shadow and light — vanishing as suddenly as it had appeared.

The door creaked open.

I stumbled out, heart pounding, clutching the jar of pickles like a lifeline.

---

Diary Entry #6

Dear Diary,

Met the creepy wall raccoon spirit today. He’s… charming? In a way that makes me want to run and never come back.
He warned me I’m losing control and need to find others like me.

Also, I think I just got recruited for some supernatural mission. Or maybe I’m being gaslighted by my own imagination. Either way, pickles are officially involved.

— Me

P.S : As the figure’s eyes gleamed brighter, I realized one thing for sure: my life was never going to be normal again.