Nobody else in the room reacted. The boss blinked, shook his head, and continued the meeting. But Leo understood: the creatures weren’t just unblockable. They were contagious .
That worked fine until the day the creature in the library sat down across from him. It was tall, human-shaped, but with a face like a shattered mirror—each shard reflecting a different version of Leo: Leo crying at his father’s funeral, Leo laughing at a bad joke, Leo asleep, Leo screaming. It placed a hand on the table between them. The hand went through the wood without disturbing a single grain. unblockable creatures
Leo tried everything. He moved apartments. He changed cities. He bought a steel door, then a concrete wall, then a salt circle, then a prayer from a monk who laughed and said, “For these? No lock holds them.” He learned that creatures like these don’t care about physics. They care about attention . The more he tried to block them, the more they noticed him. Nobody else in the room reacted
The creature tilted its fractured head. “That word doesn’t mean what you think it means.” They were contagious
Then it moved on, because the door wasn’t ready yet. But it would be.
The child-shaped creature stopped whispering. The mirror-faced one smiled—a crack running through every reflection. The static question mark resolved into a single, clear word: Finally .
He stood up. The creatures tensed—not with fear, but with anticipation.