When you signed up to be a police officer, nobody said it would be easy. Nobody expected it to be easy, and, surprise surprise, it wasn't easy.

But it was all a walk in the park compared to what happened on that night.

When they called for you, they said it was a bear. No problem, you thought. After nearly 20 years of experience, you practically ate bears for breakfast. The only real difficulty came from the fact that it was said to be inside a fairly small building, but regardless of that, it should have been easy enough to tranquilize it and release it elsewhere.

To this day, you're still not sure what you saw in that cabin, but it certainly wasn't a bear.

At first, it didn't appear to be anything. The cabin was completely empty, or at least that's how it looked in the middle of the night. The moment you let your guard down, the place started playing tricks on you. An unknown force was knocking objects over, bizarre shadows moved all around the room, and you'd rather not think about the faint scratching noise you heard.

Soon, there were other noises, some more familiar than others, and each one louder than the last. It was plain to see that certain doom wasn't far away, and the only consolation was that, even if it ultimately turned out to be nothing, your comrades would still understand and share your fear.

It's hard to pinpoint the exact moment you abandoned all hope and accepted death, but your best guess is when something around your ankles seemed to trap you, ultimately causing you to trip over. Even if it had ended there, it might have taken you months to recover. But instead, it continued, and the recovery ended up taking several years instead.

Without warning, an unnatural behemoth sprung out from the darkest corner, baring its teeth and roaring at you, in the process making it quite clear you weren't welcome there. You couldn't tell whether its body was covered in fur or something else entirely, but you can clearly remember the cerulean hue, like an unforgiving, unstoppable whirlpool in the ocean.

The roar is the part you remember more clearly than any other. When no other sound can be heard, you can hear it just as clearly as you did that night. Sometimes, when things get stressful enough, you can hear it regardless.

The next morning, none of you wanted to speak about what you'd all seen, but the boss still demanded to know. In the end, he was told that you hadn't found anything there, which he clearly didn't believe, but he pressed no further into the subject.

Five years later. You're no longer a police officer, and the same applies to many of the other officers you were with last night. You don't have a job, but you do have a loving family, and that's enough. Eventually, you're able to put that night behind you.

But apparently, you're just not allowed to forget.

One morning, your daughter seems considerably more shaken than usual. You ask her about it, and she only has this to say:

"I saw a monster last night."

Even after what you saw all those years ago, you dismiss the possibility like any decent parent would. You tell her that it was just a dream, but she's not having it.

"It's real! It felt so real! I even remember what it looked like!"

Before you can offer another word, she rushes into another room and returns with a piece of paper and some crayons. You watch intently as she draws what she saw last night, and as soon as she's finished you have nothing to say to her.

The picture shows a being that looks vaguely like a bear, but clearly isn't. The lack of detail makes it unclear whether its body is covered in fur or something else entirely. But whatever you may be, the cerulean hue is quite distinct.

During the uncomfortable silence that follows, you hear the roar.