In the eerie stillness of the night, as the world slumbered, Kris, a young man of eighteen, embarked on a terrifying journey that would forever alter the course of his life.
Unbeknownst to him, a sinister force lurked in the shadows, eager to feast upon his very essence. At first, Kris reveled in the strange sensations of sleep paralysis (not able to move but feeling conscious). The weightless feeling, the vivid hallucinations, and the eerie silence all held a peculiar fascination for him. However, as days turned into nights, the once-benign experience transformed into a nightly torment.

Every night, without fail, Kris's sleep would be abruptly interrupted by an inexplicable sensation of dread. It felt as though an invisible predator had taken hold of him, its cold, shadowy claws gnawing at his insides. Fear coursed through his veins as he struggled against the unseen force, his cries for help swallowed by the suffocating darkness. Morning would bring no respite. Kris would awaken exhausted and drained, as if his very life force had been slowly siphoned away.
Day after day, he grew weaker, unable to stand for more than a few minutes at a time. Fear now consumed him, a relentless shadow haunting his every waking moment. Unbeknownst to Kris, an evil soul had taken up residence within his body, its malevolent presence feeding on his energy. It was a creature of nightmare, born from the depths of darkness, its sole purpose to destroy.

As Kris's condition worsened, his friend Hars, a young man with an uncanny knowledge of the supernatural, realized the true nature of his torment. With a heavy heart, he approached Kris and revealed the horrifying truth: an ancient evil was slowly draining him of his life force. Desperate, Hars handed Kris a small bottle vial filled with a shimmering liquid-a potion of death.
"If you ever feel the sleep paralysis again," he whispered, "break this bottle and the fumes will destroy the evil soul". But be warned, "it will only work once." With trembling hands, Kris took the potion and clutched it tightly. That night, as sleep claimed him once more, he found himself trapped in the all-too-familiar nightmare. Terror consumed him as the evil soul tightened its grip, its icy claws tearing at his very being.
In a moment of desperation, Kris remembered the potion. With all his remaining strength, he fumbled for the vial and shattered it against the ground. Instantly, the room was filled with a pungent odor, choking and suffocating. Kris's body convulsed violently as the evil soul fought against the deadly fumes. For what seemed like an eternity, the battle raged within Kris's tormented body.

Finally, with a deafening roar, the evil soul was vanquished, its ethereal form dissolving into nothingness. As the darkness dissipated, Kris lay on the floor, trembling and exhausted but alive. In the aftermath of his ordeal, Kris slowly regained his strength and vitality. The nightmares that had once haunted him faded into distant memories, replaced by a profound sense of gratitude for Hars's unwavering support and the miraculous potion that had saved his life. And so, the tale of Kris and the evil soul became a whispered legend, a testament to the horrors that lurk in the darkness and the indomitable power of friendship in the face of adversity.