In the darkest hour of the clock, when the night was draped in a suffocating shroud, a man raced through the inky blackness. His desperate footsteps pounded against the pavement, a symphony of fear and desperation. His lungs gasped for air, his legs burned with exhaustion, but he could not stop. He could not afford to.

Behind him, an unseen terror stalked him relentlessly, a presence that defied explanation. It was a malevolence that existed beyond the realms of perception, a force that defied comprehension. And so, the man ran, his heart pounding in his chest, his mind teetering on the edge of madness.

His salvation came in the form of an abandoned chapel, a dilapidated sanctuary from the invisible predator that pursued him. He threw himself through its creaking doors, slamming them shut with a resounding thud, hoping to find solace within its desolate walls.

Inside, the air grew heavy with an eerie stillness. The faint tick-tock of a clock reverberated through the abandoned chapel, its steady rhythm accentuating the man's frayed nerves. Whispers, like ethereal tendrils, slithered from the shadows, taunting his sanity with their cryptic messages.

With trembling hands, he fumbled for his watch, his breath catching in his throat as he glanced at its face. The hands were poised, ominously close to midnight, only two minutes away. Relief washed over him, a brief respite in the face of impending doom. He allowed himself a momentary sigh of joy, a flicker of hope amidst the encroaching darkness.

But hope was short-lived, shattered like the chapel door that exploded inward with a thunderous crash. A figure stood before him, cloaked in darkness, robes billowing with an otherworldly presence. A colossal clock, heavy with chains, hung around its neck, the weight of time itself tethering it to this forsaken realm.

The figure's voice, a chilling whisper that scraped against the man's eardrums, pierced the silence. "Your time is up," it hissed, an echo of doom that reverberated through the chapel's desolate halls.

Before the man could comprehend the full horror of his situation, a primal scream erupted from his throat, a desperate plea for mercy. The sound of his terror echoed through the dense, dark forest surrounding the chapel, a haunting cry that pierced the veil of night.

As his screams dissipated into the abyss, the unknown figure stood amidst the echoes, its malevolent presence lingering. With a calculated turn, it began its search anew, its dark silhouette blending seamlessly with the night. It sought out other survivors, those who dared wander the midnight hours, unwitting prey in the realm of perpetual darkness.

And so, the man's screams dissipated, swallowed by the vast expanse of the forest. The figure, its purpose renewed, ventured forth with silent intent, driven by an insatiable hunger for souls that lurked within the veil of night. The search had begun once more, and the echoes of the man's screams served as a dire warning to all who dared wander the midnight hour, for in that darkness, a malevolent force awaited, ready to claim its next victim.