STRANGE OCCURRENCES

Tristan Taylor, stood tall with an athletic yet lean build, honed from years of exploring the great outdoors. His golden hair, messy and unkempt, framed his heart-shaped face, accentuating his bright blue eyes that sparkled like a clear summer sky. Those eyes, fringed with thick lashes, held a deep sense of curiosity and kindness.

His fair skin, smooth and unblemished, glowed with a subtle warmth, as if kissed by the sun. A light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose added a touch of whimsy to his features.

Tristan's smile, wide and genuine, could light up a room, putting those around him at ease. His full lips, curled upwards, revealed a hint of mischief, suggesting a quick wit and a sharp intellect.

Tristan tried to shake off the feeling of unease that lingered long after his mysterious nighttime excursion. He told himself it was just stress or exhaustion, but deep down, he knew it was more.

It started with little things. He could hear the ticking of the clock in his room from downstairs. He could smell the sweet aroma of blooming flowers from a mile away. And he could see the faintest glimmer of light in the darkest corners of the room.

At first, Tristan dismissed it as his senses playing tricks on him. But as the days went by, the occurrences grew stronger. He began to experience vivid dreams, full of strange creatures and unfamiliar landscapes. Tristan tried to brush it off as mere fantasy, but the dreams lingered in his mind long after he woke up. And then, there were the moments of pure instinct, where he knew things before they happened.

As the strange occurrences escalated, Tristan's confusion grew. What was happening to him? 

"Hey, Tristan, what's up?" his friend Alex asked, falling into step beside him.

"Just tired, I guess," Tristan replied, shrugging.

But it was more than that. He could hear the hum of the fluorescent lights above, the rustle of papers in the classrooms, and the distant rumble of the school's heating system. It was as if his senses had been amplified overnight.

In class, Tristan found himself zoning out, his gaze drifting to the window where the sunlight cast intricate patterns on the floor. He could smell the sweet scent of blooming flowers from the garden outside, and taste the faint tang of the air conditioning.

"Tristan, are you okay?" his teacher asked, concern etched on her face.

"Yeah, sorry," Tristan replied, jerking back to attention. "Just a little distracted."

After school, Tristan walked home with Alex, trying to shake off the feeling of unease that lingered inside him.

"Dude, what is going on with you?" Alex asked, noticing Tristan's distraction. "You have been acting weird all week."

Tristan hesitated, unsure how to explain the strange occurrences that had been plaguing him. "I do not know, man. I just feel” he paused, “off." He concluded.

Laura watched her son walk through the front door, her heart heavy with concern. She knew something was wrong, but Tristan was not talking.

"Hey, sweetie, how was your day?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

Tristan shrugged, dropping his backpack on the floor. "It was fine."

Laura's eyes narrowed, sensing the tension in his body. "Tristan, what is going on? You can tell me."

But Tristan just shook his head, disappearing into his room without a word.

Laura sighed, feeling the weight of her secrets bearing down on her. She knew she had to tell Tristan the truth, but how could she reveal the past that she did not fully know?

As night fell, Tristan lay in bed, his senses on high alert. He could hear the creaks and groans of the house, the distant howl of a dog, and the soft rustle of his mother's clothes as she moved around the room.

And then, there were the dreams. Vivid, intense, and full of strange creatures that lurked in the shadows.

Tristan tossed and turned, trying to shake off the feeling of unease that lingered long after he woke up. What was happening to him? And why couldn't he shake off the feeling that something was watching him from the darkness?

As the night wore on, Tristan's restlessness grew. He could not shake the feeling that something was off, that something was watching him from the shadows.

He threw off the covers and got out of bed, padding softly to the window. The moon was full, casting a silver glow over the garden below.

As Tristan stood at the window, his mind began to wander back to the previous night. He had gone out, feeling an inexplicable pull to the darkness. And then, nothing. He could not remember what had happened.

But now, as he gazed out into the night, fragments of memory began to return. He remembered the feeling of his feet moving, carrying him deeper into the shadows. He remembered the sound of his own heartbeat, beating in his ears. And he remembered the sensation of his body changing, shifting in ways he could not understand.

Tristan's eyes widened as the memories came flooding back. He remembered the rush of wind in his face, the taste of the night air on his lips. And he remembered the feeling of freedom, of release, as he gave himself over to the darkness.

But most of all, he remembered the eyes. The glowing eyes that had watched him from the shadows.

Tristan's heart skipped a beat as he realized the truth. He had not been alone that night. Something had been with him, watching him, guiding him.

And now, as he stood at the window, he felt its presence again. The eyes were out there, watching him, waiting for him.

Tristan's mind reeled as he tried to process what had happened. He felt like he was losing his grip on reality. What was he becoming? What was happening to him?

He turned away from the window, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for answers. But there were none.

Laura's voice broke the silence, "Tristan, are you okay? You've been standing there for a while."

Tristan hesitated, unsure how to respond. He could not tell her what was happening. She would not understand.

"Yeah, Mom, I am fine," he lied, trying to sound convincing.

But Laura knew better. She could see the fear in his eyes, the uncertainty.

"Tristan, what's going on?" she asked, her voice soft and gentle. "You can tell me."

Tristan shook his head, feeling a lump form in his throat. He could not tell her. Not yet.

As he went back to bed, Tristan could not shake the feeling that his life was spiraling out of control. He was changing, becoming something new. And he had no idea what the outcome would be.

As the days passed, Tristan's strange occurrences grew stronger. He could feel his body changing, his senses heightening. He could hear whispers in the wind, see shadows moving in the corners of his eyes.

Laura watched her son with growing concern, sensing the turmoil inside him. She knew she had to tell him the truth, but she was afraid. Afraid of what he might become, afraid of what he might do.

One night, Tristan woke to find his room filled with an eerie, pulsing light. He felt himself being drawn to it, felt his body begin to shift and contort.

And then, he saw it. A figure, tall and imposing, standing in the corner of his room.

"Who are you?" Tristan demanded, trying to keep his voice steady.

The figure did not respond. Instead, it reached out a hand and touched Tristan's forehead.

And everything went black.