Once upon a time, there was a boy who was always alone. He didn't have any friends or family, and he spent most of his time wandering the empty streets and alleys of his small town.
Despite his solitude, the boy was content with his life. He enjoyed the quiet and the freedom to explore, and he didn't mind being alone. But as time went on, he began to feel a sense of unease, as if something dark and foreboding was lurking just around the corner.
One night, as he was walking through an abandoned alley, he heard a faint whispering sound. It was like the sound of a thousand voices speaking at once, but he couldn't make out any words. The boy froze, his heart pounding in his chest, as the whispering grew louder and more insistent.
Suddenly, a shadowy figure appeared before him, blocking his path. The boy tried to run, but his legs wouldn't move. The figure loomed closer, its dark shape taking on the form of a grotesque, twisted monster. It reached out a gnarled hand and grabbed the boy by the throat, cutting off his air supply.
As the boy gasped for breath, the monster whispered in his ear, its voice like a thousand screams. It told him that he would never escape, that he would be forever trapped in the darkness, alone and afraid. The boy struggled to break free, but the monster's grip was too strong.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. The boy was still trapped in the darkness, his only companions the haunting whispers of the monster that had claimed him. He had given up hope of ever being rescued, of ever finding a way out.
And so, the boy remained alone, lost in the darkness, a prisoner of his own fear and despair. The monster had claimed him, body and soul, and he was powerless to resist its grip.