Image seeing that in the forest as it watches you

I mean, it could be… except you hear a strange, deep laugh. “HAHA…” Something not human, yet it speaks in a language you do not understand. A cold, sharp spike runs up your spine as you slowly turn your head, praying to your newly found God that it is the mailman. That glimmer of hope is just enough to lift you high so it can— SLAM! A branch hits the window. Something… or someone… is in those trees. You squint, trying to see, but the black, soulless night swallows all light. Trembling, you must know what that pitch-black sound was, that inhuman noise. You grab your candle and head for the door, but as you reach for the handle, an overwhelming knowledge of evil lurking just beyond triggers every survival instinct in your body. And just then, in a deep voice coming from behind you, you hear it: “Babushka…” Your heart skips a beat. Who is in my house? A haunting gust of wind violently throws your own hair in your face, but you are stone—incapable of moving. You shriek with a silent whimper, knowing a demon will soon consume your soul. You slowly turn around, finally taking your first breath in what feels like hours, and… Nothing. He’s hiding. But where? The man you heard must be seven or eight feet tall. What dark magic conjured this spirit? Is this why the house was so cheap? “He… hello?” you muster the courage to sheepishly mutter. “I know you’re here. I heard you.” You grab the poker next to the fireplace and walk around the corner, ready to attack. Nothing. Was I just imagining it? Gulp. I must be. This whole thing is insane. “BABUSHKA.” You drop the poker out of sheer cowardice. “P-please don’t hurt me…” But you get no response. This is but a game to him, and you are his plaything—an animal being hunted. Instinct kicks in, and you dart toward the door. You run and run and run with all your might. If he catches you, you are dead. Run. Run. SLAM against the door—your own haste keeping you from opening it. Suddenly, you see out the door window, into the trees: a thousand black, unearthly dots moving, bringing the forest to life. You can’t go out there. You can’t stay here. Only one thing to do. You throw your candle at the chair. It ignites in a brilliant flame, spreading quickly to the drapes and up the walls. You scream, “Now we all die!” As you see a crow fly through the chimney to escape the smoke that is currently engulfing your only escape route, you collapse on the floor and embrace your fate.