Shadow #5

Leonard was a seasoned police officer, accustomed to late-night calls. That evening, while in his patrol car, he received a call that made him pause. A woman’s voice on the other end sounded panicked: “Help me! Something is in my house...” Before he could ask a question, the line went dead.

The call was traced to the outskirts of town, in an old neighborhood known for its abandoned houses. Leonard wasn’t one to believe in ghost stories, but something in the tone of her voice compelled him to head straight to the address.

When he arrived, an old, dilapidated house loomed before him. The windows were dark, and the rusty gate creaked as he pushed it open. At first glance, it was clear the house hadn’t been lived in for years. The grass was overgrown, and the door hung loosely on its hinges. Still, Leonard approached cautiously, turning on his flashlight.

“Police! Is anyone here?” His voice echoed in the empty space, but there was no response. He stepped inside, his boots creaking on the dusty wooden floor. The house smelled of damp and decay, but despite its emptiness, Leonard couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched.

In the living room, he found an overturned table and scattered chairs. Faded mirrors hung on the walls, and the floor was covered in a thick layer of dust. However, in the dust, he noticed footprints leading to the staircase that ascended to the upper floor.

Following the trail, his heart beat faster than usual. At the top of the stairs, one door was slightly ajar. The beam of his flashlight illuminated the interior—a bare room with only a table holding an old, battered typewriter. A sheet of paper was loaded into it, but as Leonard approached, what he saw made his blood run cold.

The paper bore the words, scrawled in shaky, large letters: “The shadows are here.”

Leonard turned around, but there was no one there. Still, he could feel the cold air behind him, like someone breathing down his neck. The flashlight flickered, and for a brief moment, it caught something—a shadow, elongated and distorted, sliding along the wall. It wasn’t his.

“Who’s there?” he shouted, but the answer was silence. The shadow moved across the room, gliding from one wall to another without any visible source of light to cast it. Leonard slowly backed toward the stairs, keeping his eyes fixed on it. But as he stepped back, the door slammed shut with a loud bang, locking him inside.

The shadow now stood still, ominously large, consuming the entire wall. Leonard tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. The room grew colder, and a whisper, faint and incomprehensible, began to fill the air. The words were unclear, but they felt like a warning.

Suddenly, the door creaked open on its own. Leonard bolted out of the house, not daring to look back. When he reached his car, his breathing was ragged, and his hands trembled. He glanced at the house one last time. In one of the windows, a figure could be seen—a vague, dark shape watching him as he drove away.

Later that night, Leonard checked the records for that address. The house had been abandoned for over twenty years, but what he had encountered was documented in old reports. Previous occupants spoke of shadows that moved on their own, voices from empty rooms, and the unsettling feeling of never being alone.

Leonard never responded to calls from that part of town again. The house remains abandoned, but those who pass by swear that through its cracked windows, they can see shadows moving inside, even when there is no light.