There's something in the corner of your room. Something you don't remember putting there. It's not an object. It's... a shape. A silhouette.
You didn't notice it at first. It was late at night, and you were too tired, too distracted by the weight of your thoughts. The darkness wrapped around your room like a thick, suffocating blanket. But now, as you sit up in bed, eyes adjusting to the low light, you can't ignore it anymore.
It's not a shadow from anything in the room. It's too distinct. Too solid. It's like a person, but it's not.
It stands in the far corner, just beyond the edge of your vision. You've been looking at it for what feels like hours, but your mind refuses to process what it is. It feels wrong, like your brain is avoiding the truth, afraid of it.
The shape is tall—almost too tall. Its outline isn't clear, but you can see the way it shifts, the way the edges of its form seem to move like smoke, stretching in unnatural ways. The darkness around it doesn't seem to move; it just grows thicker, like it's trying to consume the rest of the room.
You try to tell yourself it's just a trick of the light. Maybe it's just the coat rack, the shadows playing tricks. You look away. Breathe. But when you look back—there it is again.
Closer.
Now, you can see it more clearly. It's not a person, but something that wants to be one. The long, thin limbs bend in ways that shouldn't be possible. The fingers are too long, ending in jagged tips, twitching ever so slightly. Its face is covered by the darkness, but you know—you know—it's watching you.
The room suddenly feels too small. Too tight. Every breath you take feels heavy. The air itself thickens with the presence of something that shouldn't be there, something that was never invited.
Your heart pounds as you pull the covers up to your chin, as if that could somehow protect you from whatever this thing is. You turn your body slightly, trying to face the wall, trying to shut it out. Maybe if you ignore it, it'll go away.
But then you hear it.
A whisper.
A voice from the corner. It's so soft, so quiet, that at first, you think it's just your imagination. But then it speaks again.
"Look at me."
The words are clear now, cutting through the silence like a knife. You don't want to look. You know you shouldn't. But you can't stop yourself. Your eyes drift back toward the corner.
It's closer.
The shape is no longer just standing. It's moving toward you, slowly, creeping along the floor like a spider. Every movement is unnaturally slow, deliberate. The fingers scrape along the wall, dragging as if the shape is trying to pull itself closer to you.
You feel cold. Freezing. It's so cold, you start to shiver. Your teeth chatter, but you can't move. You can't scream.
"You're not alone."
You want to cry out. To run. But the words stick in your throat, paralyzing you. Your body feels like stone.
The thing is right next to you now. You can feel the heat of its breath on your skin. Your skin crawls, every hair standing on end. The whisper is so close, it sounds like it's in your ear.
"Look at me."
Your mind races, but your body remains still. You can't turn away. You can't look away. Slowly, against every instinct, your eyes meet its face.
It's… nothing.
No eyes. No mouth. No nose. Just a featureless face, like a blank canvas. But you can see it, feel it—a darkness, a depth, an absence so profound it threatens to swallow everything you are.
And then, you understand.
It's empty.
This thing—this shadow—it's not real. It's a part of you. A fragment of your own fear. Your own darkness.
You've been staring at it, feeding it, letting it grow.
And now, it wants something from you.
It wants you to join it.
Without warning, it lunges. Its long arms wrap around you, cold and crushing, pulling you into the black void of its embrace. You feel your body shift, your soul bending under its weight. You're being swallowed. Consumed.
Your screams echo in the darkness, but it doesn't matter. No one can hear you.
No one is left.
---
It's not a shadow anymore.
It's you.