The Girl Who Spoke to Shadows

There was a rule in the village of Darnhollow:

Do not speak to the shadows.

They were not just tricks of light or tricks of the mind. They moved where light could not explain, curved around corners they shouldn’t reach, and whispered secrets no one wanted to hear. Most people learned to ignore them. To pretend they didn’t see the way their own shadow lingered a second too long when they turned away.

But not Elen.

Elen was twelve when she first heard the voice.

It came from the shadow cast by her bedroom window. She was drawing in her notebook, half-asleep, when it whispered:

“You dropped this.”

A pencil rolled back across the floor—against gravity, against logic—and stopped at her hand.

Elen froze.

Then she picked it up.

And for some reason, she whispered back: “Thank you.”

The shadow said nothing.

From that day forward, the shadows in her life began to change. They gathered closer when she was sad. They stretched long to shade her from the sun. And sometimes, when she asked a question aloud—questions she didn’t dare ask anyone else—the shadows answered in murmurs that only she could hear.

At first, she thought she was losing her mind.

But shadows don’t lie.

Not the way people do.

By thirteen, Elen had learned to speak with them clearly. She called them by names they gave her—Whisper, Drift, and Old Curl. They remembered things others forgot. They had no faces, no warmth, but they felt. They cared. In their own strange, dark way.

The village didn’t notice. Not really. They already thought Elen was strange. Her father was a wanderer who’d vanished years ago, her mother silent and distant. Elen spent her days sketching odd shapes in her books and sitting alone under the ancient oak near the graveyard.

But one day, someone else did notice.

A new boy moved into the village. His name was Marek. He had wild, curious eyes and a voice like running water—quick, always moving. He saw Elen talking to the shadows.

And instead of laughing or backing away, he asked: “Do they talk back?”

She hesitated.

Then she nodded.

From that day, they became friends.

Marek didn’t hear the shadows like she did, but he believed her. He sat with her under the oak, asked questions she’d never thought to ask, and once, he even gave Drift a nickname of his own: “Mr. Gloom.”

They laughed so hard that the shadows danced.

But joy never lasted long in Darnhollow.

One evening, the village bell rang—the signal that someone had gone missing in the forest.

It was Marek.

He’d gone out alone. His mother said he chased his dog into the trees. The forest beyond the village was forbidden. Everyone knew that. Not because of wolves or cliffs or storms…

But because the shadows in the forest didn’t whisper.

They screamed.

Elen waited for news. Days passed. Then a week. Search parties returned with nothing.

Everyone gave up.

But not Elen.

She stood beneath the old oak, staring into the woods. Drift curled around her feet. Whisper clung to her arms.

“He’s still alive,” she said.

The shadows didn’t speak.

But they trembled.

That night, she packed a bag. Matches. Bread. Marek’s notebook. And her courage.

She walked into the forest without a lantern.

The trees closed in fast. Light vanished. But she didn’t need it.

The shadows guided her.

They slid along the ground, leading her past thorns and creeks and roots. They shielded her from snapping branches. They hummed low and mournful when she began to doubt.

After what felt like hours, she found a clearing.

And Marek.

He sat on a mossy stone, bruised but breathing, with his dog curled beside him. His eyes widened when he saw her.

“You came,” he whispered.

“You didn’t leave a map,” she replied with a shaky smile.

The shadows swirled behind her, protecting the space around them.

“How did you find me?” he asked.

“I listened,” she said. “No one else does.”

He reached for her hand.

The shadows around them pulsed once—deep and warm.

They returned to the village the next morning, bruised but alive.

And for the first time in generations, the village broke its rule.

Because Elen had spoken to the shadows.

And they had answered.