The Shadows ....

A smiling face is peering at me from the darkness behind my bedroom window. I live on a 9th floor, growing up with cats and dogs I got used to the sound of scratching on my bedroom door while I slept. Now that I live alone it is much more disturbing. "I can't sleep," she whispered as she climbed into bed with me. I woke up cold, hugging the dress she was buried in. My son woke me up in the middle of the night, "Dad, there's a monster under my bed." I went to look and there was nothing there, then I heard my son with a trembling voice: “daddy, there is a monster over my bed” I can't move, breathe, speak or hear, and it is very dark all the time. If he knew that this was loneliness, he would have preferred cremation. My sister won't stop crying and screaming in the middle of the night. I visit her grave and tell her to stop, but she ignores me. Something horrible follows you everywhere. Look left, right, at your feet, in the hall, under the bed... but never look up, he hates being looked into his eyes. You come home tired after a hard day at work and all the lights are off. You reach with your hand for the light switch, but another hand is already there.

You reach with your hand for the light switch, but another hand is already there. I kiss my wife and daughter before I go to sleep. When I wake up, I'm in a padded room and the nurses tell me it was just a dream. You wake up. She does not. I had never seen a girl cry so uncontrollably before. And even less in an abandoned hospital. When you are completely alone, you will hear a soft creepy sound. When you stop listening to it, you will know that "it" has found you. My sister says that mom killed her. Mom says I don't have any sisters. I have good news and bad news. The good news is that we'll soon be dead. Every night at 3 in the morning my house starts to smell like sulfur and I wake up. I could go back to sleep if that shadow in the corner would stop looking at me. Last night it took me a long time to fall asleep because of the gloomy look of the man in that painting. This morning I realized that it was not a painting, but a window.

I woke up hearing someone knock on the window pane. At first I thought it was the window, until there was another knock from the mirror. After living alone in such a big house for so many years, I came to a surprising conclusion: I always closed many more doors than I opened. Yesterday my parents told me that I was too old for an imaginary friend and that I had to end it. they found his body this morning. This morning I found a picture of me sleeping on my cell phone. I live alone.