Because tonight, as I write this, I notice something strange. My reflection in the dark window is not quite keeping up. There is a lag—a half-second delay—and in that gap, something else is looking back. Not a face. A surface. Rough. Layered.
The next morning, my keys were not where I left them. Not lost, just… elsewhere. On the kitchen counter, though I never go there first. I shrugged it off. Because tonight, as I write this, I notice something strange
I woke up with scratches on my forearm. Three parallel lines. Not deep, but deliberate. Not a face
I understand now. Gredg is not a creature in the normal sense. It is a law. A law of oversight, of forgotten things, of objects that go missing and reasons that vanish. It lives in the space between I put it down somewhere and I can’t find it anywhere . It feeds on the moment you realize you’ve lost something you didn’t know you had. Layered