Lacey loved her bed mostly because of how it smelt. It smelt like comfort, felt like heaven after a long day. Nothing pleased her more than diving into bed and burying her nose into her pillow after a long hot bath. This night was no different so Lacey tucked herself tightly into bed. "The tighter the better," she thought.
It was as if her bed read her mind, and her blanket curled snugly around her. It didn't stop, even when Lacey felt a bead of sweat roll down her temple. Tighter and tighter it wound, the once cozy embrace now an ugly twist choking its owner. All this time Lacey didn't struggle because the smells! Oh, how they tempted her. Old and comforting, and yet, what was this? A new scent, wafting through the air like tendrils until they reached her nose. It promised excitement, magic, and the power to take her back to old cherished memories. It promised her the world, and all she had to do was lay still, and let the smells overtake her. So what if her bed felt a tad bit uncomfortable? Those scents forbade her to ignore them. Reality was subjective. This right here was her reality. Enjoying her bed and all the smells that left her enthralled.
All this time the blanket never stopped squeezing until it finally crushed her bones. Lacey never made a sound. All that was left on the bed was a hollow shell; a pale, empty Lace that now adorned the sheets in all its twisted, mangled appearance.
Beware your comforts
For they are always watching
Waiting to consume
