I saw things others didn’t

March 2, 2025

by Lucy

2 min read

Story Premise 2 min read (343 words)

"Ever since I was a kid, I saw things others didn’t. Shadows moving where they shouldn’t, shapes shifting in the dark. My parents said it was just my imagination, but deep down, I knew better. As I got older, it didn’t stop. If anything, it got worse. Sometimes, I’d stare at a wall too long […]"

Ever since I was a kid, I saw things others didn’t. Shadows moving where they shouldn’t, shapes shifting in the dark. My parents said it was just my imagination, but deep down, I knew better.

As I got older, it didn’t stop. If anything, it got worse. Sometimes, I’d stare at a wall too long and the surface would shift—at first, just tiny ripples, like heat rising off pavement. But then, faces would start to push through, one after another, like they were trapped behind a thin sheet of something not quite solid.

I thought I was losing my mind. Until one night, I realized the faces weren’t just appearing.

They were watching me.

It happened when I was up late, scrolling my phone in bed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move along the wall. A faint bulge, as if something was pressing from the other side. I froze.

Then, a face pushed through.

Its features twisted like melted wax, shifting into different expressions. Eyes hollow, mouth opening and closing like it was trying to speak. Then another face appeared. Then another. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

I shut my eyes tight, counted to five, and when I opened them, the faces were gone.

But I felt something.

A presence.

Not the comforting kind. The kind that makes your skin crawl, like cold fingers brushing against the back of your neck.

From that night on, I started noticing them everywhere. Not just in my room, but in reflections, in the grain of wooden doors, even in the static on the TV screen. The worst part?

They weren’t just random faces anymore.

They were familiar.

Some were people I had known—relatives who had passed, old neighbors, even a teacher from my childhood. But some… some I had never seen before. And they were getting clearer. Closer.

Now, I don’t stare at walls anymore.

Because one night, I know a face won’t just appear.

It’ll step through.

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