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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

A story paranoia, fear and terror told through the eyes of our story's narrator.

Submitted: August 02, 2018

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Submitted: August 02, 2018



I have been a paranoid person for as long as I can remember. I can't remember being anything but paranoid, always looking over my shoulder no matter where I am, or who I am with. The worst of it comes at night, when the shadows are out. They follow me, I know they do. I am not simply a mentally unstable lunatic, for lack of better words. The shadows live, and they follow me. The darkness is my enemy, it wants me. It wants to drive me to insanity. Maybe I'm already there, and these words are just the ramblings of a madman. I promise you, dear reader, that I am not a madman. 

Every evening on my journey home from my university classes, the streetlamps come on, and the shadows emerge. They sway and dance their demented, disturbed dance on the ground, the grass and all around. The dull light white yellow light that emerges from the streetlamps joins with the shadows, creating an unholy union whose sole purpose is to destroy my mind. 

Although the shadows haunt me every evening, there is one particular shadow that follows me everywhere I go. It resembles a man in a long coat and a wide brimmed hat. I know that he is a shadow, he has no face, no distinguishable features, no skin tone. He is not a person, but simply a shadow, a product of the darkness which haunts me. I only see him briefly, then he dissapears. He stays far from me, but close enough for me to know he is there. He is always there, he never leaves. 

My mind will not be broken by this shadow man. He will follow me, but he will not break me. I must stay strong. The shadows play games, and haunt me during evenings. The shadow man who follows me is everywhere. I see his figure on the ground, the grass, everywhere there is dark and shadows.

The shadow man follows, he follows to the end of the earth. 

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