Md.OBIT

The Vibe: Neon-noir, sleek, and high-contrast.
Prompt: A wide-angle cinematic shot of a young woman in a reflective silver puffer jacket and techwear cargo pants standing in a rain-slicked neon alleyway. She looks exhausted, leaning against a wall. Hovering above her is a demon, glitching shadow entity made of fractured digital shards and violet static, its "fingers" reaching down toward her shoulders. 8k resolution, dramatic blue and pink lighting.

A cinematic full-body shot of a young man with curly hair wearing a black sweatshirt and baggy denim jeans, standing in a somber pose with his head tilted down. Emerging from his back is a massive, towering shadow monster made of swirling black smoke and ethereal mist.

The villagers warned travelers about the river at the forest’s edge—not because of the water, but because of the tree that grew beside it.
It was enormous, older than anyone could remember, its trunk twisted and its roots sinking deep into the river like searching fingers.

One evening, Mara wandered there alone. The sky was dim, the last light fading. She heard the river’s gentle sound—and another noise beneath it. A slow, heavy breathing.

She stepped closer. The huge tree loomed over her, its leaves trembling without wind. The river rippled strangely. Leaning in, Mara peered at the water.

A face stared back at her.

It wasn’t her reflection. Its eyes were hollow, its mouth stretched far too wide. It looked like a drowned person, but warped, pulled downward by something unseen.

Mara gasped and stepped back. Behind her, a thick root shifted. The breathing grew louder.

The face in the water moved, rising toward the surface. It looked directly at her—and smiled.

She turned to run, but something wet wrapped around her ankle. The river surged, dragging her toward it. She clawed at the dirt, but the tree’s roots came alive, curling around her wrists and legs.

The last thing she saw was the tree’s bark splitting open like a mouth, sap dripping like dark blood.

The next morning, the river looked calm. The tree stood silently as always.

But now, when the water is still, two faces stare up from the depths—one old, one new—waiting for someone else to come too close.

Rahim moved into his new hostel room last month.
Room 207.
Two beds.
But the warden told him:

“You will stay alone for now.”

Everything was normal… until the fourth night.

At exactly 2:33 AM, Rahim woke up to a sound.

Someone was breathing… heavily…
right beside his bed.

He froze.
He knew no one else had the key.

Slowly, he looked toward the other bed.

There was a silhouette sitting on it.

A person.
Not moving.
Just… staring.

Rahim whispered with a shaking voice:

“Who are you?”

The figure didn’t speak.

Then, in the dark, it raised its hand…
and pointed toward the ceiling.

Rahim looked up.

There were scratch marks all over the ceiling.
Fresh.
Like someone had been crawling.

Rahim turned the light on—

The other bed was empty.

He grabbed his bag, ran to the warden’s room, and said:

“There was someone inside! Someone sitting on the bed!”

The warden’s face turned pale.

He whispered:

“That room…
the last boy who stayed there…
used to sleep on the ceiling.”