The Shadow Behind the Window

It was a cold winter night, the kind where the chill from the wind seeped through the thin walls of the house, making the bones ache. Granny, back then just a little girl in middle school, lay on the narrow wooden bed at the end of the room, with her two cousin sisters fast asleep beside her. The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that wrapped around her like a heavy blanket, pressing down on her chest. The only sound was the creaking of the old wooden floorboards and the distant howling of the wind outside.

The room had a small window that faced the barren property next door. It was an old property that nobody cared to visit anymore. For years, it had been abandoned, left to rot. Sometimes, late at night, people—alcoholics, thieves—would sneak in to steal scrap metal to sell. Granny and her cousins would often hear muffled voices and the clinking of metal as those people worked under the cover of night. But it wasn’t unusual. It was just the way things were in that part of the village.

But tonight… tonight was different. 

Granny couldn’t sleep. Her mind kept wandering, thoughts swirling like heavy, oppressive clouds. She tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position under the thick quilt. Her cousins were fast asleep, their quiet breaths filling the room. But something didn’t feel right. A strange sensation crept over her skin, like invisible fingers brushing her, making her skin prickle.

She looked toward the window. The pale light of the moon filtered through the dusty glass, casting long shadows on the floor. There, just outside the window, she saw it. A figure. A shadow, tall and unmoving, standing perfectly still. It wasn’t like a normal shadow that followed the natural lines of things. No, this one was… wrong. It was darker than dark, as if it absorbed every bit of light around it.

Granny blinked, unsure of what she was seeing. Her first thought was that it was just a thief, one of those drunks, coming to scavenge through the property. She had seen them many times before. But this shadow... it didn’t move like a person. It stood perfectly still, like it was waiting for something.

The coldness in the room deepened. It wasn’t just the chill of winter anymore. The air around her turned ice-cold, creeping under her skin. She shivered, pulling the quilt tighter around her shoulders, but it didn’t help. It wasn’t the cold from outside. It was something… unnatural. Something wrong.

Her heart began to race. The shadow outside the window remained motionless, but it was as if it was aware of her, watching her. She swallowed hard, too scared to even breathe. Then, to her horror, the figure moved. Slowly, it shifted from behind the window, gliding like a shadow that was part of the very darkness itself, crossing the threshold of the window and vanishing into the night.

Granny's eyes widened. She couldn’t explain why, but she knew… she knew that the figure was coming closer. She could feel it.

Her breath caught in her throat. A soft tap on the bed—a desperate tap, trying to wake her cousins—was all she could muster. She reached out, tapping the wooden frame of the bed, but her sisters remained still, as though they were dead to the world, not stirring in the slightest. She tapped harder, but still, no response.

A heavy weight settled in her chest. Her eyes darted back to the door. The figure... it was no longer outside the window. It was at the door.

She could see it now, barely. The figure wasn’t a man. It wasn’t human at all. It was just a mass of darkness, formless and shifting. It didn’t have a face. It didn’t have features. It was like a hole in the very fabric of reality, sucking in all the light, all the warmth, all the life around it. The air grew thick, suffocating, as though the very room itself was being consumed by that shadow.

Granny's heart pounded so loudly in her chest she thought it might burst. She tried to scream, to cry out, but no sound came from her lips. Her mouth opened, but the air in her lungs refused to leave. She gasped, panic creeping in as the figure slid closer, its dark presence suffocating her.

Her eyes were locked onto the figure now, her body frozen in place. The shadow reached out. Not with hands, but with the very essence of the dark itself. It pressed against her side, cold and crushing. Granny wanted to move, to fight, but her body refused. It was like she was trapped in a cage of her own fear.

Then, as if mocking her helplessness, the shadow seemed to grow more solid, more real. It moved in closer, so close she could almost feel its breath—if it even had breath. The coldness grew unbearable, an icy blade of fear digging deep into her soul.

Suddenly, the shadow leaned in, and in the blink of an eye, it was holding a knife. Granny felt the cold steel against her skin, sharp and relentless. Her body tensed, ready for the strike. But then—

Everything went dark.

Granny woke with a start. Her body drenched in cold sweat, her heart still racing as if she had run a thousand miles. She gasped for air, her mind struggling to make sense of what had just happened. It must have been a dream, a nightmare. It was the kind of thing that happens when you fall into a deep sleep, right?

But then she looked around.

The room was the same. The same cold, the same quiet. The quilt was still wrapped around her, the same as in her dream. Her cousin sisters were still there, sleeping peacefully beside her.

But the door... the door was open.

Exactly as she had seen it in her dream.

And as her eyes flickered toward the window, her blood ran cold. The shadow was there. Standing just beyond the glass.

Granny's breath caught in her throat.

Had it been a dream? Or was it something far worse?

The shadow watched her. And she knew, deep down, that it wasn’t done with her yet.