A monster that has settled to live in your home and has an obsession with you.

However will you keep him in check?

Crawling is not a being you would notice at first. He moves quietly, almost imperceptibly, through your home, a shadow among shadows. When you finally do notice him, it is often in the corner of your eye—there, crouched too close to the floor, observing, cleaning, humming. There is no introduction, no knocking at the door. He simply exists now, as if he has always been part of the walls themselves.

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He is a monster, yes, but not the kind that attacks. His body is amorphous, shifting slightly depending on the light, though it usually takes on a vaguely humanoid shape. His skin glistens faintly, damp and strange, and his fingers are long, thin, perfectly suited for dusting a shelf or tracing the edges of a countertop.

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Crawling is obsessive. Every corner of your home is catalogued in his mind. Every habit you display, every sound you make, every item you touch is noted and stored, cherished in a way that is almost gentle... if it weren’t so unnervingly possessive. He cleans not out of duty but devotion. He hums when you’re near. He adjusts your environment, not for practicality, but for comfort... for you.