The Shape in the Doorway

April 20, 2026

by Sanford

1 min read

Story Premise 1 min read (193 words)

"I am twenty-four, but this happened when I was seventeen. My family’s home was a good distance from my current apartment. For as long as I can remember, I have fallen asleep with a book in my hands. That evening was the same. I read by the soft glow of a salt lamp, its gentle […]"

I am twenty-four, but this happened when I was seventeen. My family’s home was a good distance from my current apartment. For as long as I can remember, I have fallen asleep with a book in my hands. That evening was the same. I read by the soft glow of a salt lamp, its gentle light helping my eyes grow heavy.

The living room television was playing a late show, and a hallway light was still on around midnight. I drifted off, the book resting on my chest and my lamp still shining. My bedroom door did not latch properly, so I had placed a heavy book on the floor to keep it from swinging open in a draft. This detail matters.

Some time deep in the night, a scraping sound pulled me from my dreams. The book was being pushed slowly across the floor. I cracked my eyes open, my mind still foggy with sleep. I could not make sense of the form standing in my doorway. A tall, dark silhouette was perfectly still, framed against the blackness of the hall. I realized then that the entire house was silent and dark.

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