The Silent Shadow

The Fears

When he was a child, he had met the drunk man who lived in town several times. He didn't know why he was afraid of him.

He didn't remember what happened to him. Maybe he was already dead. All alone, silent...

Edward never thought that one day he would understand the person he feared.

Numbness enveloped Edward as he emerged from the car, a heavy fog of emotion clouding his every thought. The house, a silent witness to the chaos of the night before, loomed before him in disarray. A wave of indifference washed over him; the disheveled state of the surroundings seemed inconsequential in the face of the emotional tempest within.

Perhaps the shadow creature had retreated into the recesses of the night, leaving him in a tenuous peace. With weary strides, he ambled toward his room, where the chaos of the external world couldn't penetrate the confines of his personal sanctuary. The bed beckoned like a silent refuge, and he sat down, the exhaustion of the night settling into every fiber of his being.

Pulling a nondescript box from beneath the bed, he gingerly opened it, revealing a trove of memories. Photographs and letters, each a precious relic of a time when life held a semblance of normalcy. The contents of the box were a bittersweet tribute to Claire, his little sister—a connection to a past that felt both distant and achingly close.

 Edward immersed himself in the tangible remnants of his grief, the letters penned to Claire acting as a lifeline to a time when expressing his emotions brought some solace. Each written word, though seemingly insignificant, held the weight of his heartache, a testament to his unyielding connection to his little sister.

As he sifted through the letters, memories intertwined with the pictures he had drawn as a carefree child. The innocence captured in those images now stood as a stark contrast to the complex tapestry of his present. Yet, amidst the nostalgia, a startling discovery awaited him.

A particular drawing caught his attention—an image he had sketched in his youth. The crudeness of his childhood artistry was evident, with stick figures capturing the essence of carefree days. However, it was the figure in the corner that sent a shiver down Edward's spine—a silhouette in black shadow. The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning, and his mouth went dry.

The figure in the drawing mirrored the ominous presence he had encountered in recent nights. It wasn't merely a product of childish imagination; it seemed to be a harbinger of the unsettling events that had haunted him since Claire's passing. 

As he shuffled through the images, a disconcerting realization dawned upon him—all of them bore the ominous figure in its various forms.

In the drawings predating Claire's death, the shadow creature appeared harmless, an ordinary presence within the whimsical landscapes of a child's imagination. However, the shift in tone became palpable in the depictions postdating the tragedy. The creature transformed into something much more sinister—larger, scarier, and undeniably creepy.

Just like when it attacked him...