I used to think the shadow in my room was just my imagination.
The first time I saw it… I was twelve.
It stood in the corner near my wardrobe — tall, thin, darker than the rest of the night.
At first, I thought it was just the curtain.
But the window was closed.
And the curtain wasn't moving.
Still… I ignored it.
Because that's what you do when something doesn't make sense.
You pretend it isn't there.
Every night after that… I woke up at exactly 3:00 AM.
No alarm.
No noise.
Just my eyes opening suddenly… like something had called me from inside a dream.
And every time I woke up…
It was there.
Standing in the same spot.
Watching me.
I told myself it was sleep paralysis.
Stress.
Hallucination.
Anything but the truth.
Because the truth would mean…
It was real.
The strange part wasn't that it appeared.
The strange part was that…
It never moved.
Not once.
For three years.
Until last night.
I woke up again at 3:00 AM.
The room felt colder than usual.
Heavy.
Like the air itself was holding its breath.
And there it was.
Standing in the corner.
But something was wrong.
It wasn't as far away as before.
It was closer.
My chest tightened.
I blinked.
Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me.
But when I looked again…
It had moved.
Just a little.
Still silent.
Still watching.
My heart started pounding.
Shadows don't move.
They don't change position.
They don't get closer.
I pulled the blanket over my head like a child.
Counting silently.
One…
Two…
Three…
Then I slowly pulled it down.
It was closer.
I couldn't breathe.
My throat felt dry.
And for the first time in three years…
It tilted its head.
That was when I heard it.
Soft.
Close.
Right beside my ear.
A whisper.
"Amara…"
My blood ran cold.
Because that's my name.
And I live alone.
And when I forced myself to look back at the corner…
The shadow…
Was gone.
But something else was there.
Standing beside my bed.
And it wasn't a shadow anymore.