First post: They will come back
After that night, I thought I was finally free from the shadows that had tormented me for so long. But I was wrong. They came back, stronger than ever before.
I first noticed their presence when I was walking down the street, on my way back from a therapy session. It was a bright, sunny day, but suddenly everything went dark. The shadows were everywhere, creeping up on me from every direction.
I tried to run, but my legs wouldn’t move. I was frozen in place, trapped in the darkness. And then I heard the whispers, the same whispers that had haunted me for years.
“Come back to us,” they said. “Join us in the darkness,” they said.
I tried to resist, but the shadows were too strong. They pulled me down, dragging me by the heels into a world of darkness and terror.
For weeks, I was trapped in that place, a place where the shadows ruled and I was their prisoner. I could hear them whispering to me, calling out to me in the dead of night. They wanted me to do things, terrible things, and I was powerless to resist.
And then, one night, something changed. I woke up to find that the shadows had taken physical form, creeping up from the floor like tendrils of smoke. They surrounded me, trapping me in their grasp.
I tried to fight back, but it was useless. The shadows were too strong, too powerful. And then, in the darkness, I saw something that chilled me to the bone.
The shadows were taking on the shape of a person, a person with glowing eyes and a twisted smile. It was like something out of a nightmare, and I knew that I was doomed.
The figure stepped forward, its hand outstretched. And then it spoke, in a voice that was not human. Not English, but a language that was foreign, something demonic.
“Welcome to the darkness,” it said. I could understand it. Better than English.
I don’t know what that thing was, what it was. It saved me before, but that feeling I can’t shake it. This time was different it felt evil, hungry for blood, hungry for me.
As the figure stepped closer, its twisted smile grew wider and more menacing. Its eyes seemed to glow brighter, and its presence filled the room with a sickening aura of evil.
I tried to back away, but the tendrils of shadow were tight around my body, holding me in place. I felt a cold, clammy hand grip my shoulder, and I knew that I was trapped.
The figure leaned in closer, its breath hot against my face. I could smell the stench of death on its breath, and I felt a wave of nausea wash over me.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” it hissed, its voice echoing around the room. “You’re mine now.”
I struggled to break free from the shadows, but they only tightened their grip. The figure laughed, a sound that was like nails on a chalkboard, and raised its hand.
In its hand was a wicked-looking blade, black as pitch and sharp as a razor. I knew what it was going to do, and I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the pain.
But it never came. Instead, I felt a sudden gust of wind, and when I opened my eyes again, the figure was gone. The shadows had retreated, and I was alone in the room.
I stumbled to my feet, my heart racing. What had just happened? Was it all a hallucination, a product of my troubled mind? Or was something truly evil lurking in the darkness?
I didn’t know, but one thing was clear. The shadows were still there, waiting for me to let my guard down. And the figure, whatever it was, was still out there, watching and waiting
For months after the incident, I tried to live my life as normally as possible. I went to work, spent time with my friends, and tried my best to forget about the shadows and the figure that had haunted me for so long.
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t escape the feeling that I was being watched. Everywhere I went, I felt a cold presence at my back, like someone was following me.
I tried to ignore it, to tell myself that it was just my imagination, but deep down I knew that it was something more. Something evil and unrelenting, something that would never let me go.
One night, as I was getting ready for bed, I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye. When I turned to look, there was nothing there, just the shadows dancing on the wall.
But then I heard a sound, a low, guttural growl that seemed to come from every direction at once. It was the same sound I had heard from the figure that night, and I knew that it was still out there, watching from every corner.
I tried to leave the room, to get away from the sound, but the shadows seemed to be closing in on me, creeping up from the floor and the walls. And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the growling stopped.
I was alone again, but I knew that I was never truly alone. The figure was always there, lurking in the darkness, waiting for the right moment to strike.
From that day on, I couldn’t sleep. Every night, I lay awake, listening to the sound of my own breathing and the beating of my heart, waiting for the shadows to come back.
And they always did. Every night, without fail, they would creep up on me, surrounding me with their cold embrace. And then the figure would appear, its eyes glowing in the darkness, its voice echoing in my mind.
“Welcome back,” it would say. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
I tried to fight back, to push the shadows away and banish the figure from my mind, but it was no use. The more I resisted, the stronger they became, until I was completely consumed by their darkness.
I knew then that I was never going to win this battle. The figure and the shadows were too powerful, too relentless, and they would never stop until they had claimed me for their own.
And so I gave up. I surrendered to the darkness, to the shadows and the figure that haunted me. I knew that I was doomed, but I was too tired to fight anymore.
Now, as I sit here in the darkness, listening to the whispers of the shadows and the growling of the figure, I know that there is no escape. I am trapped here, in this world of darkness.
the figure always wins. He always has a plan for me, and for you.