There was something in the air that morning, something that made him feel uneasy, though he couldn't quite place it. Juan García, a middle-aged literature professor, awoke from his sleep with a strange sensation, as if the weight of the world had fallen upon his chest. He glanced at the clock—it was 7:30 a.m. Rubbing his eyes, he awkwardly searched for the sense of normalcy, but nothing felt normal. The house was too quiet, and the radio, which was usually on in the early hours of the day, emitted no sound.

  He got up and walked to the window. The day appeared to be just like any other, yet something troubled him. He couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed, that something horrible was about to happen. But he didn’t think too much about it. After all, it was just another morning in his usual routine.

  The streets were unnervingly empty as he got into his car and headed to work.

  Upon arriving at the university, he encountered something strange. The hallways, which were normally filled with students, were empty. It was an uncomfortable stillness, as if everything had been stripped of life. The few staff members he passed didn’t seem to notice his presence. They were soulless figures, with empty eyes, moving like shadows that existed only to carry out mechanical tasks.

  Juan shrugged, thinking perhaps the faculty was in the middle of some unexpected break. But as he walked down the halls, a feeling of paranoia began to overtake him. The walls, with their damp stains and flickering artificial light, seemed to lean toward him, watching him with a morbid interest. Something was wrong, and not just in the building, but in the very air itself.

  When he reached the classroom, his students hadn’t arrived yet, which struck him as odd, given that the class was about to start. He sat down at his desk, staring at the clock as time passed. Suddenly, he heard faint noises, as though someone were walking down the hallway. But when he peeked through the door, there was no one. Just emptiness.

  Minutes later, the sound repeated, closer this time, accompanied by a soft laugh, like a whisper. The door to the classroom opened slowly, and what appeared from the other side made Juan’s heart stop in his chest. It wasn’t one of his students; it wasn’t even human. It was a tall, deformed figure, with limbs that seemed like dry, broken branches. Its fingers, long and twisted, stretched out like claws, and its skin looked wrinkled and covered in bark, as though it were part of a dead tree—flesh, bone, and skin fused together. The creature’s head tilted to one side, and its face, barely visible beneath the darkness of its torn hood, was a grotesque mask of terror. Its eyes, empty, reflected nothing—only an endless abyss.

  "Professor..." the creature murmured, and its distorted voice froze Juan’s blood. "I have questions about the midterm."

  Juan took a step back, feeling the air thicken, as if the very walls wanted to crush him. The creature moved toward him, clumsy yet swift. Without thinking, Juan ran toward the window and tried to open it, but it was stuck. He looked back and saw the creature sliding toward him, its terrible grin spreading across its face.

  "Professor... please."

  Juan bolted from the classroom, noticing there were more creatures now—each one more horrifying than the last. They began speaking incoherently, repeating phrases, some more disturbing than others, like "Help me," "Leave me alone," and "What are you?"

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  Juan ran out of the classroom, noticing there were more creatures now, each one more horrifying than the last. They began speaking incoherently or repeating phrases, some more disturbing than others, like "Help me," "Leave me alone," and "What are you?"

  Juan jumped into his car and drove quickly toward his house. As he saw more of those creatures appearing in the streets, not paying attention, he crashed into one... and then he woke up.

  He woke up in his bed, still wearing the clothes from the night before, drenched in sweat. He looked around, confused. He was in his house, back in the world he knew. But the fear clung to his skin, like a shadow that never faded. He got out of bed, feeling the air on his face, the noise of the city in the distance. Everything seemed in order, until, as he looked through the window, he saw something that made him freeze.

  In the streets, the figures walking were not human. They were those deformed beings, like "branch men." Some crawled, others walked clumsily, while some simply swayed on their limbs, as if imitating the movement of trees in the wind. They were everywhere, lurking in the city.

  Juan tried to leave his house, but he realized the door was blocked. As were the windows. The city had transformed into a hell of branches and dead flesh. The atmosphere was thick, charged with a dark energy that consumed everything. Suddenly, the sound of distorted laughter filled the air, and it was then that he understood those creatures were already watching him. The nightmare he had experienced before hadn't been a dream—it was a warning.

  With each passing day, the branch men drew closer. The city was a desolate place, filled with corpses and distorted screams. In his refuge, Juan only found peace in brief moments when silence reigned, but even those moments were short-lived. Because he knew he couldn’t escape them forever. The fear consumed him, and his mind grew more fragile with each passing hour.

  After days of fleeing, without eating or sleeping, Juan decided he had to find a safe place. He left his house and ventured into the forest, hoping to find refuge in nature. But nature itself had changed, transformed into something monstrous, an extension of the evil that the branch men represented.

  It was then that he saw it. A solitary figure, standing in the distance. Juan tried to run towards it, but something stopped him. The creature had been watching him all along. It was one of the same, but there was something different about it. It didn't have the empty stare of the others. Its face was marked by a wide, stretched smile, as if it could never wipe that grimace away. Frozen in terror, Juan couldn’t stop the words from escaping his mouth.

  "What... what are you?"

  The creature, with its distorted voice, responded, "What you see is what you will become. You cannot escape. We have been watching, always, with curiosity. What drives you to keep running, Professor Garcia? Why do you keep fleeing? What makes you so special? We know you cannot run forever. We will grow tired... and when we do, there will be nothing left."

  A chill ran down Juan’s spine. The creature took a step towards him, and on its face, the wrinkles around its mouth stretched further, revealing long, sharp teeth. "The day will come, and when you least expect it, we will come. We will grow tired of waiting. We will grow tired of watching."

  "We have seen you," the creature continued, coming even closer. "We know what you are. We know what you think. You have no secrets. And one day, when you are boring, we will come without warning."

  The word "boring" echoed in Juan's mind, like a silent threat that could only be understood with time. They had watched him for so long, they knew everything about him, and every attempt he made to escape was just a small part of the game.

  Juan stepped back, his mind struggling to find a way out, but it was futile. The creature was too close, and he couldn’t keep running. Every step he took led him back to the same destination, as if the very forest itself was twisted to trap him.

  "We will always be near," said the branch man with one last, sinister smile. "There is no refuge. There is no escape."

  Juan closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, the creature was gone. But the echo of its voice still resonated in his mind. The branch men would always be near, always watching, and when they grew tired of waiting, they would destroy him. Somehow, that feeling of constant stalking, of being watched without rest, was even more terrifying than the possibility of being captured.