The next morning, Mike couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed. The pub bustled with the usual crowd, but his focus drifted. Every so often, he'd glance at the far corner of the room, half-expecting to see that same shadowy figure from his dreams.
It was a slow day, giving him too much time to think. Sleep paralysis, he tried to remind himself again. It's just that. He had suffered from it before, sure, but this felt different. He'd never heard voices before. Never felt like it lingered long after he woke.
After his shift, Mike slipped into the back office, rubbing his temples. His phone buzzed with a message from his mother.
"Having a rough day, Mike. Call me when you can."
He hesitated. Talking to her when she was in these moods only dragged him down further. Her depression had a way of spreading, pulling him into its depths if he wasn't careful. But ignoring her would only make him feel worse.
As the phone rang, he steeled himself for the conversation. Her voice was fragile, barely above a whisper. She rambled about how she hadn't slept, how her thoughts were getting darker again. Mike tried to reassure her, but her words lingered with him after they hung up. The cracks she mentioned—the cracks in her mind—were beginning to sound all too familiar.
And for the first time, Mike wondered if his mind might be cracking too
YOU ARE READING
The Inheritance
Short StoryMike Harris thought his struggle with anxiety and sleep disturbances was behind him, but when the terrifying episodes of sleep paralysis return, they bring something darker-a presence lurking in the shadows, watching, waiting. As the haunting vision...
