The Shadow in the Hall

When I was a kid, something happened that I will never forget. It was the night before my birthday, and I woke up in the middle of the night. My sister was sleeping beside me, and our bedroom door was open, letting me see the short hallway that led to my parents’ room. A small nightlight kept the room dimly lit.

I was just lying there, trying to fall back asleep, when I glanced at the hallway—and froze. A man stood there, slightly see-through, dressed like someone going to work. He had a tidy hairstyle, a suit, and even carried a briefcase. He kept looking between my room and my parents’ room, like he was trying to decide something.

I was terrified but stayed quiet, hiding behind my sister. But then, he turned his head toward me. And that’s when things got worse—his head started jerking in all directions, moving in a way no human head should. I squeezed my eyes shut, hid under my blanket, and tried to stay as quiet as possible.

At some point, I must have fallen asleep, but when I woke up again, an even stronger fear hit me. I knew something was watching me. I looked up—and there it was.

A dark, shadowy shape floated on the ceiling. It wasn’t like the man; this thing was formless, like a shifting cloud, but somehow I knew it was alive. It moved to the corners of the ceiling, gliding soundlessly before hovering right above me. It felt heavy, like it was pressing down on my chest, even though it never touched me.

I couldn’t see any eyes, but I knew it was staring at me.

I cried until I fell asleep.

That wasn’t the only strange thing in that house. We used to hear a little girl singing in the bathroom, heavy footsteps stomping down the stairs, and even saw a woman’s face appear on the wall. Maybe the businessman, the woman, and the little girl were connected somehow. Maybe they were a family.

But that black shape? I don’t think it was ever human.