The bedroom was pitch-black, the curtains drawn. They weren't very good quality, so moonlight seeped through, letting me make out the shadows of the furniture.
There seemed to be someone beneath the covers on the bed—or maybe it was empty.
I couldn't hear anyone.
I held my breath and watched the room for a while. Then I sensed a faint trace of yin energy.
It was coming from beneath the bed, barely perceptible.
I grew wary, and images from all kinds of horror movies involuntarily surfaced in my mind.
Anything could come crawling out of the darkness under a bed.
I slowly lowered myself, pressed my face to the floor, and looked beneath the bed.
There was about fifteen to twenty centimeters of space beneath it, crammed with odds and ends. In the dim light, I couldn't make out what any of them were.
I searched for the source of the yin energy. After a good while, I spotted a wriggling shadow.
It was a small lump, seemingly crawling outward. It was on the other side of the bed, so all I could see was a shadow.
Suddenly, I heard a noise. I sprang up and looked toward the bed.
The covers shifted, and a woman's hoarse cough came from beneath them.
There was someone there!
I didn't dare get up, so I lowered myself back to the floor.
I had no idea what was going on. How had I passed through the door to the other dimension, only to end up alone in someone else's bedroom?
But anyone who saw me would surely think I was a bad guy. A burglar, a robber, or someone planning something even more vile. Whatever the case, they wouldn't think I was a decent person. Decent people didn't show up in strangers' homes