The window was open, even though the temperature outside was well below freezing. She tried the light switch, but the bulb was out. What little glow there was coming through the window from the light on the street corner barely illuminated the bed, but she could see a figure, unmoving, laying on top of the covers.
A raspy, inhuman breathing came from the body on the bed, and she wanted to call out to him, to make certain he was okay—but the sound terrified her.
She took a step towards the bed, her throat still too tight to even whisper his name. Another step. The figure moved. The ice in her chest began to thaw. He wasn’t too sick to move. He could hear her approaching, and he could respond, and it was all going to be okay. His head, still in shadow, turned toward her, and his eyes opened—his red, glowing eyes…
—Richard F. Yates
(Primitive Thoughtician and Supreme Bunny Lord of The P.E.W.)