The Hollow Dark

It always stood in the same spot: at the end of the hallway, where the shadows

ran deepest. At first, it looked like a trick of the eye —

a darker patch of darkness, a vertical smear of something vaguely human.

But over the weeks, it changed. Not by moving… but by becoming clearer.

The shape sharpened. Shoulders. A head tilted too far to one side. Arms hanging straight

down, fingers long enough to scrape the baseboard. It never stepped forward.

Never breathed. Never made a sound. But every morning, the carpet was warm where it stood,

as if something heavy had lingered there all night. Finally, one night,