The shadowed world

The house was quiet, save for the faint creaks of wood under my feet as I moved through the living room. I lived there with my mother and little brother, and though life was simple, it felt like something was always missing. The absence of my father was a silence we never spoke of.

As I passed by the old buffet, my eyes landed on two photos. One was of me as a child, smiling next to my mother. The other was of our old neighbors—Josh and his mother. Josh and I had been inseparable, until the day he vanished without a trace. His disappearance devastated his mother. She was never the same after that.

I climbed the stairs, my thoughts drifting back to that lost friendship, when suddenly, I heard a voice. I couldn't make out the words, but there was a challenge in the tone, something that stirred me to respond. I accepted it, impulsively, as if I had no choice. Instantly, a thick, oppressive silence fell over the house.

I tried to move quietly, but every step I took echoed through the stillness, loud as gunshots. I stepped outside, expecting to find the usual bustling neighborhood, but there was nothing. The street was deserted, unnervingly still. The world felt hollow, as if I was walking through a memory, not reality. Then, the sky darkened, and I knew, instinctively, that I needed to hide.

I dropped to the ground, pressing myself against the windows at the front of the house, heart pounding. I heard the low hum of a car engine approaching slowly, methodically. Fear crawled up my spine. Curiosity got the better of me, and I raised my head just enough to peer out. A woman was in the driver's seat of the car, her face twisted into a smile—wide, predatory. Our eyes met, and she whispered through the glass, "If I catch you, you won't get away. First warning."

My blood turned to ice. I ducked down, crawling away as quietly as I could, even though every nerve in my body screamed for me to run. The car crept past, and finally, the sound of the engine faded. I waited what felt like an eternity, my body trembling. When I dared to look again, daylight had returned, as though nothing had happened.

Shaken, I rushed through the house, pulling the curtains closed—purple ones, I think—and shutting the wooden shutters. Once everything was locked down, I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face in my hands. My body shook with silent sobs, the terror slowly unraveling inside me.

But the peace didn't last long. One afternoon, I stepped outside again, and there, in the distance, I saw my mother. Relief washed over me, and I ran towards her. But as I drew closer, the sky darkened again. Her face twisted into that same hideous smile I had seen on the woman in the car. My heart raced. I stumbled backward, terrified, and bolted back into the house, locking the door just before darkness swallowed the world outside. "You can't trust anyone," she called, her voice mocking, even though it still sounded like hers.

That was when I understood—the danger lived in the dark, or at least in the shadows. And it was closing in.

The next day, I ventured beyond the house, hoping to understand more about where I was, about what had happened to this place. I wandered to the back of the property and found an old, abandoned service station, half-hidden behind tangled weeds. The cars were rusted and forgotten, but something about the place made me feel uneasy. Still, I figured stealing one of the cars could help me escape, so I walked closer.

Then, I saw it—something crouched on the hood of a nearby vehicle. At first, I thought it was an animal, but as I stepped closer, I realized it was... wrong. Its presence was dark, heavy, like the air around it was suffocating. It leapt toward me, and I screamed, certain that whatever this thing was, it would devour me.

But before it could reach me, a splash of water hit the creature, and it dissolved into nothing. I gasped and spun around. A young man stood there, holding a bucket. He was... stunning, in the way that left you momentarily breathless. His clothes were worn—an old beige shirt and pants, the kind of attire you'd see on someone who worked with their hands. His body was strong, rugged, like he had been built by years of hard labor. "You should really drink some water," he said with a small smile. "You look like you could use it."

I blinked, still in shock. For some reason, despite everything, I trusted him. There was no fear, no hesitation. He led me over to a makeshift barrel, where he was mixing water with yellow flowers. "They keep the darkness away," he explained.

I helped him throw the flowers into the water. As we worked, thunder rumbled in the distance, and I looked up, alarmed. "We need to hurry," I urged. "The sky's getting dark."

He nodded. "Come with me. My place isn't far."

He led me to a small house I hadn't noticed before. It felt strangely familiar, but I didn't recognize it immediately. Once inside, I relaxed a little. There were pictures on the shelves, and when I looked closer, I saw a photo that mirrored one I had in my own home. "I have the same one," I said softly.

The man stepped closer, and it hit me all at once. "Josh?"

His expression shifted to something sad, but familiar. "I've been here a long time," he said. I realized then—Josh had been trapped in this strange, shadowed world ever since he disappeared. All these years, he had been surviving alone, in the dark.

Over the next few days, we rebuilt the bond we once had as children. It felt so natural, as if no time had passed at all, except now there was something more. We were older, different, but the connection was still there. One day, I told him I needed to go back to my house for a few minutes. He offered to come, but I insisted I go alone. Our houses were so close that one of the windows on the second floor led right into one of mine.

Josh helped me climb through, his hands lingering on my hips a moment longer than necessary. Once inside, I knew immediately that something was wrong. The house wasn't empty. In the shadows, I saw a figure. At first, I thought it was my little brother. But when it turned, I realized it was a man, crouched, waiting. He lunged at me, and everything went black.

Josh watched me disappear through the window, feeling a gnawing unease. Seconds later, he heard a crash and my scream, sharp and terrified. He started toward the window, but before he could act, night fell. "Damn it!" he swore.

The man had tied me up, leaning over me, his face shadowed by a cap pulled low over his eyes. He smirked, amused as he dropped insects onto my face, each one worse than the last. I struggled, helpless, panic clawing at me. Finally, as he moved to place a lizard on my cheek, I jerked violently, knocking him back. In the chaos, a massive hand shattered the window, reaching inside. It grabbed the man instead of me. He let out a strangled scream as his body turned to stone, his time frozen forever.

A voice echoed in the darkness. "I've got you at last," it hissed, and I knew the Night had claimed him.

When I woke, I was back in Josh's house. Safe, for the moment.

Over the next few days, we grew closer, until it felt impossible to be apart. I would lie next to him in his small, child-sized bed, curled against his chest. One night, as I nestled into him, I found myself wondering if Josh was even real—if he wasn't just another trick of the Night, designed to make me lower my guard. But then, he'd hold me tighter, and all my doubts would fade.

Years passed, and eventually, Josh and I had a child. One morning, as I prepared to head to the service station for water, I glanced back at him standing in the doorway, our son cradled in his arms. It was a peaceful scene, like something out of a dream.

Suddenly, a voice shattered the moment. "I've found you," it whispered, chilling us both to the bone. Josh's eyes widened in shock, and I turned to see an older woman approaching—Josh's mother. She had finally found her way back to us. There were tears, hugs, and explanations, but something was wrong. Her hands had started to turn gray.

Josh begged her to stay, but it was clear. She wasn't meant to be here, and the world was trying to correct it. She smiled sadly as her body slowly turned to stone. The Night had come for her.

In the end, Josh couldn't leave her there, even as the darkness crept closer. I told him to take our son inside, that I would follow with his mother. But as I approached the door, the weight of my own body grew heavy. I looked down in horror to see my hands turning gray, just like hers.

The Night was behind me, its long arm reaching out. It wanted her, but it was taking me too.

Josh saw what was happening and rushed toward me, pulling with all his strength. He tried to free me, but it was too late. The darkness had me, pulling at my limbs with an irresistible force. My hands turned brittle as stone crept up my arms. I screamed in desperation, reaching for Josh with everything I had left. His fingers brushed mine, his grip fierce as if he could will me back to him. But the cold weight was spreading too fast, consuming me.

"Don't let go!" Josh shouted, panic cracking his voice.

But I could feel it—the pull of the Night, a presence older than anything, gnawing at the edges of my soul. I fought, clinging to him as though my life depended on it. But with each second, I felt myself slipping, the world dimming as shadows swirled around me.

"Josh... I can't..." The words barely escaped my lips as my legs stiffened, the last of my energy draining.

His face twisted in agony as he yanked at me again, hard enough to pull me halfway back into his arms. For a brief, hopeful moment, I thought I might make it. But then, from behind me, that same cold voice—the voice of the Night—whispered in my ear:

"Let go. You belong to me now."

A wave of dread washed over me. It wasn't just pulling at my body—it was pulling at my mind, my memories, everything that made me who I was. The longer I fought, the more pieces of myself I felt slipping into the void. I was losing myself to the Night.

"Josh, please..." I choked, tears mixing with the panic in my voice. "Save our son."

He stopped pulling for a moment, his eyes locking onto mine, filled with such deep sadness. "I can't lose you. I can't—" His voice broke.

"You have to. For him."

Our son was crying inside the house, his wails a small, distant sound. The darkness pulled harder, and I knew—if I didn't let go now, it would consume us both. With my last bit of strength, I unclasped my hand from Josh's.

"No!" he cried out, but I slipped free, falling into the arms of the shadow.

The world collapsed around me as the Night swallowed me whole. The last thing I saw was Josh's face—anguished, desperate—as the door to our house slammed shut, separating us forever.

I was adrift in a sea of shadows, weightless, timeless. The Night was everywhere, and yet, it was nothing. I could no longer feel my body, only the quiet, suffocating cold. My thoughts came in fragments, scattered pieces of what I once was. I could barely remember my name.

How long I drifted in the void, I couldn't say. It could have been days or centuries. The silence gnawed at me, empty and eternal.

But then, a voice—soft, familiar—pierced through the dark.

"Mom?"

I didn't recognize it at first, but it was there again, clearer this time.

"Mom... where are you?"

I felt a warmth, a light flickering somewhere distant, small but insistent. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I reached for it. My son. Somehow, I could feel him, searching for me, calling me back.

With all the strength I had left, I focused on that warmth, willing myself to find him. The shadows recoiled as the light grew stronger, pushing back the Night. I followed it, fighting through the fog, clawing my way toward his voice.

And then, there it was—daylight. Blinding and sharp, but real. I emerged from the darkness with a gasp, falling onto soft grass. The air was crisp, the sun warm against my skin.

I was in a clearing, surrounded by tall trees. In the center stood my son, his small hand outstretched toward me. He couldn't have been more than six, but his eyes were wise beyond his years.

"Mom," he whispered, tears glistening in his eyes.

I stumbled forward, wrapping my arms around him, the weight of reality crashing back into me. "I'm here," I sobbed. "I'm here."

He clung to me tightly, but as I held him, I realized we weren't alone. Across the clearing, standing in the shadows of the trees, was the Night. Its form was unclear, shifting, but I could feel its eyes on me. It hadn't given up.

"It won't stop," my son whispered into my chest. "It wants you back."

I pulled him closer, fear creeping back in. The Night had let me go—for now—but it wouldn't rest. I had crossed a boundary, one that wasn't meant to be crossed.

"What do we do?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up at me, determination blazing in his small, innocent face. "We run."

Without another word, he took my hand, leading me deeper into the woods. The trees were dense, their shadows long, but there was light ahead—a path, winding through the darkness.

We ran together, my heart pounding in time with his small footsteps. The Night followed, always just behind us, a constant, looming threat. But as long as we had each other, as long as I held onto the warmth of my son's hand, I knew we had a chance.

The Night may have claimed me once, but it wouldn't take me again. I had found my way back to him, and I would do anything to protect him from the darkness that sought to tear us apart.

We were not alone anymore. And as long as we stayed together, the Night could never win—or se we thought. But in the back of my mind, a question still remained: what was the Night, or...who?.