Scary stories I wrote

The Shadow That Waits

You lie in bed, waiting for sleep to come. The room is still, the soft hum of your fan the only sound in the dark. Your eyes are heavy, your body sinking into the mattress. You welcome the feeling, eager to escape into a night of rest after a long day.

But as you drift into sleep, something changes. The weight that should be comforting now feels crushing. Your arms, your legs-none of them respond. Panic prickles at the edge of your mind as you try to lift a hand, a finger-anything-but you're locked in place, as if invisible chains have wrapped around your body.

You try to calm yourself. You've read about sleep paralysis; it's just a trick of the mind, right? But the darkness seems thicker now, pressing in, smothering. You force your eyes open, desperate to shake this strange feeling. That's when you see it.

A figure looms in the corner of your room, a shadow darker than the pitch-black around it. It's not moving, but you can feel its presence, heavy and watching. Your heartbeat hammers in your chest as the figure inches closer. Its form is unclear, shifting in the dark, but you can make out a face-a pale, hollow face with sunken eyes that gleam faintly in the dim room.

The figure stops at the edge of your bed, close enough that you can see its mouth. It doesn't smile. Instead, its lips pull back to reveal rows of sharp, glistening teeth, stretching too wide for its face. The jaw unhinges, opening wider and wider until you can see the void inside, an endless darkness that seems to pull at you, as if it wants to consume you whole.

You try to scream, but no sound comes out. Your mouth won't open. You can only watch, paralyzed, as it lowers itself onto your chest. The pressure is unbearable, a weight like ice, freezing you from the inside out. It leans in close, so close you can feel its cold breath on your skin.

Then it speaks. Its voice is a whisper, low and raspy, echoing in your mind as if coming from deep inside you: "I've been waiting for you."

The room grows colder, and the pressure on your chest intensifies. You can't breathe. Your vision blurs, and you feel yourself slipping, falling away from consciousness. The shadow leans closer, and as darkness fills your mind, you feel it reach inside you, pulling something out-something vital, something that belongs to you.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, the weight is gone. You shoot upright, gasping for air. Your room is silent, your bed empty. The shadow in the corner is gone, but the lingering feeling of its touch remains, cold and heavy.

You tell yourself it was a nightmare, a side effect of sleep paralysis. But as you run a hand across your chest, you feel a deep ache-a bruise, tender to the touch, like a reminder. And you know, somehow, that the shadow is still waiting. The next time you close your eyes, it will be back.

Word count not including this: 523