I woke up to the sound of scratching at my window. Living alone in a house that creaked with the slightest breeze, I was used to odd noises. But this was different. It was deliberate. I told myself it was just a tree branch, though I knew none were close enough to touch the glass.
The next night, the scratching returned, louder, more insistent. Curiosity overcame fear, and I pulled back the curtain. Nothing but the dark, empty night greeted me. Yet, the sound continued, even as I stared into the void.
I began to notice other oddities. Objects moved from where I left them, lights flickered on and off, and cold spots appeared in the middle of rooms. I mentioned these occurrences to friends, but they laughed it off. “You’re working too hard,” they said. “Take a break, get some rest.”
A Shadow Among Shadows
One evening, determined to prove I wasn’t imagining things, I set up a camera to record overnight. The next morning, I reviewed the footage, my heart racing. The video showed me, asleep in bed, and then, a figure, a shadow, moving around the room. It was silent, almost respectful, as if it were familiar with the space. But the most chilling part was when it stopped by the side of my bed, watching me sleep. There was no face, no features to discern, just a darker patch of night.
I couldn’t stay there after that. I packed a bag and left, seeking the sanctuary of a friend’s couch. But the presence, whatever it was, didn’t appreciate being ignored. My friend’s house began to experience disturbances—doors slamming, glasses shattering, an air of hostility that grew each day.
Desperate, I consulted a medium, a woman known for her ability to communicate with the other side. She agreed to help, her face turning pale as she entered my home. “You’re not alone,” she whispered. “There’s a spirit here, angry, confused. It thinks you’re the intruder.”
The medium attempted to make contact, to persuade the spirit to move on. But it refused, its attachment to the house too strong. “It’s waiting for someone,” she said. “Someone it lost a long time ago. You remind it of that person.”
The Unseen Bond
I asked what I could do, how I could fix this. The medium shook her head. “Leave. It’s the only way. This spirit, it’s lost in its own grief, its own anger. You can’t help it.”
I followed her advice, moving far away, starting anew. But sometimes, in the dead of night, I hear scratching at my window, a reminder of the presence that once shared my home. I wonder about the spirit, about the person it waits for. And I realize, in its own twisted way, it was never trying to scare me. It was just trying to connect, to find solace in a world it no longer belonged to.
The real horror wasn’t in the haunting, but in the tragedy of its existence, forever searching for a connection that it would never find.
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If you enjoyed this story, then you should definitely read the Hunger of the Dark: The Clock of Eternal Darkness
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