The invisible ink: Exposing the hidden stories in short narratives

The Delusional's Legacy: A Shadow in the present

Cam's childhood was a shattered kaleidoscope, the vibrant colours replaced with a stark, monochrome grief. It was a day etched into his memory, vivid and brutal – the sun glinting off the shattered glass of his living room window, the manic glint in the eyes of a stranger claiming to be a time traveller, and the horrifying screams that bled into a silence so profound it felt like the world itself had held its breath. His parents, vibrant and full of life, were gone, victims of a delusion spun from a twisted imagination.

Growing up, Cam carried the weight of that day like a physical burden. He was haunted by the image of the man, his crazed laughter echoing in the empty spaces of Cam's mind. The police deemed him insane, a harmless lunatic who'd snapped, and the case was closed. But Cam never believed it. He saw the unnatural conviction in the man's eyes, the unsettling calm amidst the chaos he'd wrought.

He tried to bury the memories, to build a life free from the shadows of that dreadful day. He threw himself into his studies, excelled in everything he did, becoming a successful architect with a sharp intellect and a quiet demeanour. But the scars remained, subtle yet ever-present. He avoided crowds, found solace in solitude, and always, always, kept a watchful eye on his surroundings.

Then, Liam walked into his life.

Liam, with his easy smile and infectious laugh, was the antithesis of everything Cam associated with his parents' killer. He was warm, bright, and possessed a genuine kindness that drew Cam in. He was the perfect friend, the one Cam had longed for, the one he thought he could never have. But as time went by, a creeping unease started to gnaw at Cam's peace.

It started with small, almost imperceptible details. The way Liam's eyes crinkled when he smiled, a mirror image of the killers. The way his fingers twitched when he was excited, a nervous habit Cam was all too familiar with. The casual way he spoke about time, about the possibility of alternate realities, the faint echo of the killer's delusional ramblings.

Cam tried to dismiss these observations, to convince himself it was just coincidence, his grief playing tricks on him. But the similarities were too stark, too numerous to ignore. He found himself staring at Liam, studying him, searching for any sign of the derangement he knew so intimately.

The nightmares returned, the screams and shattering glass blurring with Liam's face, twisting the face of his friend into a monstrous caricature. He started avoiding Liam, making excuses, feigning fatigue, anything to escape the growing dread that consumed him.

Liam, however, was persistent. He was concerned, confused by Cam's abrupt change in behaviour. He bombarded him with texts, called relentlessly, and even showed up at his doorstep, his usually bright face clouded with worry.

One evening, during one of Liam's persistent calls, Cam heard him say something that sent a shiver down his spine. "Sometimes, I feel like I've lived this before. Like I've already experienced this very moment."

The words, echoing the killer's claims of time travel, were a chilling confirmation of Cam's worst fears.

The unease morphed into terror. The memories of his parents, their final moments, flooded back with brutal clarity. He could see the killer's face, Liam's face, superimposed on top of each other, a grotesque, horrifying fusion.

Cam knew he had to confront Liam, to unravel the truth behind the uncanny resemblance. He invited him over, his hands trembling as he poured two glasses of whiskey. The air crackled with tension, thick and suffocating.

"Liam," he began, his voice barely a whisper, "there's something I need to ask you. Something that's been bothering me for a while."

Cam recounted the events of that day, his childhood trauma, the killer's claims of time travel, and finally, the unsettling resemblance between Liam and the man who had destroyed his life.

Liam listened intently, his usual cheerful demeanour replaced with a hesitant stillness. When Cam finished, Liam's eyes widened, his face pale. He looked away, his fingers tracing patterns on the table.

"I...I don't know what to say, Cam," Liam finally uttered, his voice barely audible. "It's...complicated."

"Complicated?" Cam's voice rose, a tremor of fear and anger echoing in it. "My parents are dead, Liam. Killed by a man who claimed to be a time traveller. Do you have any idea how that feels? To live with that?"

Liam looked up, his eyes filled with a strange, almost mournful sadness. "It's more than just a resemblance, Cam. I... I think I might be him."

The weight of those words crashed down on Cam, shattering the fragile hope he'd clung to. The man who was his friend, his confidante, was the ghost of his past, the embodiment of his grief and trauma.

Cam stared at Liam, at the man who was both friend and foe, the source of his pain, and the embodiment of his darkest fears, and realized that the nightmare he thought he had escaped was far from over. It had just begun a new chapter, a chapter filled with unsettling truths and the chilling possibility that time, and fate, could be far more intricate and crueller than he could ever have imagined.