The Shadow in the Corner

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It stands in the corner of my bedroom every night.


I have grown rather used to its presence. 


A dark shadow, darker than the night, the vague shape of a man. 


But I know it’s not a man.


It watches me silently. It does not move. If I turn the light on, it disappears.


It always stands in the far corner, nearly pressed up against the wall.


Until tonight.


Tonight it stands closer to me. Its arm is slightly raised, as if beckoning me forth.


I do not dare to look directly at it. 


I huddle under my blankets, and try to ignore it. 


But now, I can’t just see it. I can hear it. 


It breathes deeply and slowly. Each breath makes the room colder. 


When it takes a step, I can hear a faint creaking sound, as though its joints are old and have not moved in a very long time. 


It is almost to the edge of my bed. 


My heart is pounding in my chest. I pull the covers over my head, but swiftly they are drawn away from me.


The shadow puts its hand on my forehead, its other hand gently under my chin to lift my face towards its own.


I look into its eyes. They are a void. I feel nothing. Numb, almost.


Everything slips away. 


I awake with a jolt. Sunlight pours through the window. I extend my arms with delight, admiring my form. The sunlight feels amazing on my skin after so long alone in the dark. It was so awful there. No longer, it worked. 


I am reborn. I am new. 


I am free. 


 

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