Chapter 22: Fading Into Shadows
Chapter 22: Fading Into Shadows
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The Vanishing Presence
It doesn't move.
It doesn't breathe.
It just stands there—watching.
The weight of its gaze crushes me, thick and oppressive, sinking deep into my bones. My muscles coil, my breath tightens, every nerve in my body screaming—Run. Move. Do something.
But I can't.
Because I know.
The moment I react—the moment I acknowledge it—it will change everything.
And then—
It dissolves.
Not like something turning a corner.
Not like someone stepping into the darkness.
It unravels.
Like threads of existence peeling away, reality itself rejecting it, sweeping it into nothingness.
A cold, empty space lingers where it stood, and for a second—just a fleeting, horrifying second—I think I hear something.
A whisper.
Soft. Faint.
Not a voice. Not a sound.
An absence.
And then—silence.
The weight on my chest doesn't lift. It settles in, digging deep, carving itself into me.
Because whatever that was—
It wasn't supposed to exist.
And yet—it did.
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A Chilling Unease
The street around me feels too normal.
The air, too still.
The city lights flicker on, their glow warm, familiar. The world should be moving forward—cars honking, people laughing, the distant hum of life carrying on.
But none of it reaches me.
I stand there, untouched by normalcy, my heartbeat the only sound in my ears.
A strange calm creeps in—not relief, not comfort.
Something far worse.
Like the moment after a storm, when the sky looks clear, but the air still crackles with leftover energy.
The kind of silence that comes before something worse happens.
I swallow hard, my throat dry.
I don't understand what I saw.
I don't want to understand.
But I do know one thing—
That thing was real.
And it let me see it.
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Running From the Unseen
Then—
I run.
I don't think. I don't hesitate.
My feet slam against the pavement, my breaths short and sharp.
I don't know where I'm going—only that I need to move.
Faster. Faster.
My body screams, lungs burning, legs aching, but the fear is worse.
It presses against my back, breathing down my neck, whispering without words—
"You shouldn't have seen me."
"You shouldn't have noticed."
I won't look back.
I refuse to look back.
If I do, I'll see something.
Something worse than before.
Something smiling.
Something reaching for me.
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Shadows That Linger
The sun dips lower, stretching shadows long across the pavement.
But they're wrong.
They stretch too far.
They twist.
The shapes are off.
They flicker at the edges of my vision, moving in ways they shouldn't, bending, watching—
No.
No. It's just my mind.
It's just my mind.
I force myself forward, pushing past the terror clamping down on my ribs.
My house—just ahead.
Walls that will protect me.
A door I can lock.
Something real.
The final stretch feels endless.
My heartbeat pounds in my skull, drowning out everything else.
One step.
Another.
And finally—
I cross the threshold.
I slam the door shut.
Lock it. Bolt it.
And for the first time since I saw it—
I breathe.
My back slides down against the door, my chest heaving.
I'm safe.
I made it.
…Right?
The silence presses in.
And in the corner of the room—
The shadows don't move.
They wait.
Because deep down—
I already know.
There is no safety from something like that.