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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Dark · #2063361
A two paragraph story about shadows and what lives in them.
I looked around my room from the safety of my bed, seeing nothing but shadows around me, only husks of real things. Lying back in bed for a moment, I felt the chill of the night’s air whisper into the room. Shaded fingers darted across my ceiling. I sat up, surveying my room once more and saw nothing but shadows, remembering what I was told “Shadows are not real. Nothing to be scared of. They are mere husks of real things.” Keeping my eyes peeled around my room I could see the shadowed branches of trees moving in the howling wind outside. I went back down, trying to forget about shadows around me. CRASH. I darted up again, was that the cat? Or was it something else? I shook myself a moment and said “It’s just the cat, go back to sleep.There are no such thing as boogeymen with sacks or demons sleeping under your bed.”

The floor creaked downstairs coming closer to this room as my eyes were wide open, my heart pounding and my breathing heavy, all because of shadows, reflections of something more real. My door creaked open and I darted up again. A tall man made of shadows stood in the doorway, a sack in his hand. I shut my eyes almost screaming “He’s not real. Just a shadow. There are no such thing as monsters.” The shadow darted towards me, humming a lullaby. His long talons reaching through the room to get me. I froze as I felt the cold worm like fingers of the monster grab my shoulder. I felt the brown sack over my face, the smell of rotting meat inside.
© Copyright 2015 Tim Martin (timmartin at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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