Embraced by Shadows Before Dawn

Table of Contents

The Shadow's Embrace: A Night of Fear

The storm rolled in without warning. Thick clouds cloaked the moon and a dense fog swallowed the town of Brookhaven, making the familiar streets feel like a dream — or a nightmare. For Lena, it began with a knock at the door that never came from anyone she saw.

She was alone in her small rental cabin at the edge of the forest. Her phone had no signal, and the power had been out for an hour. A single flashlight flickered in her hand as she moved from window to window, peering out into the fog.

Then came the second knock — louder, more urgent. She spun toward the door, heart hammering. “Who’s there?” she called.

No answer. Only the creak of trees swaying in the wind.

“I’m not opening that,” she muttered, backing away. But the knocking stopped as suddenly as it had started. Silence returned, thick and oppressive.

Lena moved to the fireplace, her fingers trembling as she tried to light it. She had just struck a match when she saw it — a figure outside the window, standing perfectly still. Too tall. Too thin. Wrapped in blackness.

She gasped and dropped the match.

When she looked again, the figure was gone.

“Okay, no more horror movies for me,” she whispered, though she hadn’t watched one in weeks. Something about Brookhaven had felt off from the start — ever since she arrived to finish her novel in peace. The townsfolk were kind but distant, and no one stayed out after dark.

She retrieved the match and finally lit a fire. As the warmth spread, she felt a false sense of comfort return. She sat in the armchair and opened her journal, trying to write… but the pen wouldn’t move. Words escaped her.

That’s when she noticed her reflection in the glass of the cabin door.

Her back was to the door. But in the reflection — something stood behind her.

She turned, flashlight raised — nothing. The room was empty. And yet, her skin crawled.

Suddenly, the radio crackled to life. A voice, distorted and low, whispered, *“Do not look into the dark.”*

Lena stared at the battery-powered radio. She hadn’t touched it in days. “What…?”

The voice repeated: *“Do not look into the dark. It sees you now.”*

Then silence. The radio died.

Lena backed away slowly, heart in her throat. She grabbed her coat and flashlight, deciding to leave. “I’ll sleep in the car. I’m done with this cabin.”

As she reached the door, the fire flickered behind her, casting wild shadows. One of them… didn’t move with the flames. It reached for her instead.

She screamed and bolted outside into the freezing fog. Her boots crunched through gravel as she stumbled toward her car. But when she opened the door — the keys were gone. And something was already sitting in the backseat.

Eyes. Not glowing. Just… watching.

She slammed the door shut and ran back toward town, the flashlight barely illuminating her path. Trees seemed to shift as she passed. Whispers chased her in the mist — not words, but breaths, like something inhaling behind every step.

Halfway down the dirt road, she saw a lantern glow through the fog. A small cottage, hidden behind gnarled trees. She didn’t remember passing it before. But she ran to it anyway.

She banged on the door. “Hello? Please, let me in!”

After a long pause, an old woman opened it. Her face was lined with age and fear. “You saw it, didn’t you?”

“The thing in the shadows—yes!”

The woman pulled her inside and slammed the door. “You shouldn’t have stayed after sundown. Brookhaven has rules. The shadow chooses one each night.”

“Chooses one for what?”

“To remember. To follow.” She motioned to the fireplace, where a dozen black candles flickered. “You looked into the dark. It looked back. Now it knows you.”

“What do I do?” Lena’s voice shook.

“You can’t run. You have to survive until sunrise. Don’t let it touch you. Don’t listen when it calls your name.”

Lena opened her mouth to reply — but heard it. From outside the cottage, in the thick fog:

“Leeeena…”

The old woman grabbed her arm. “Don’t respond!”

The voice came again, this time from the window. “You left me behind, Lena. Come back…”

It sounded like her brother. But her brother had died three years ago in a hiking accident.

Lena clamped her hands over her ears. “It’s lying. It’s lying…”

The old woman began chanting something — low and rhythmic. The shadows on the walls twisted. One slithered down like liquid night and tried to reach Lena’s ankle. She kicked it away, heart racing.

“Don’t let the shadow touch your skin,” the woman warned. “It marks you.”

Time slowed. Minutes passed like hours. The shadow circled the house, whispering memories. Pleading. Screaming. Sometimes, it sounded like her mother. Her best friend. Herself.

Then — silence.

Lena dared to peek outside. The fog was lifting. A sliver of dawn crept over the trees.

“Is it gone?” she asked.

The old woman looked tired. “For now. But once it sees you, it doesn’t forget.”

“So what happens to me now?”

She handed Lena a small black talisman. “You carry this. You stay away from the dark. And if you ever hear your name whispered in the fog again—run.”

Lena didn’t go back to the cabin. She left Brookhaven before the sun fully rose and never looked back. But some nights, in unfamiliar towns, she hears it — her name, floating on the wind.

And she knows the shadow is still searching.

Weeks later, Lena stayed at a hotel in a quiet town up north. She had convinced herself it was over — that she had imagined most of it. The talisman stayed tucked under her pillow like a child's comfort object, though she told herself it was just superstition now.

On her third night there, the lights in her room flickered.

Then came the knock. Soft. Measured.

She stood frozen in place. "Not again," she whispered.

But it wasn’t the door this time. The knock came from the closet.

She stepped closer, hesitant. Her reflection in the nearby mirror seemed slower than her movements — lagging just a second behind. She saw herself reach for the closet door… but her reflection stayed still. Staring.

She stopped. Her hand trembled.

Then, in the silence, a whisper came from the mirror itself. "You're mine now, Lena."

She stumbled back. The mirror rippled, like water disturbed by wind. And in its surface, the shape appeared — tall, black, eyeless. Smiling with a mouth that shouldn't exist.

Lena grabbed the talisman and shouted, "Leave me alone!"

The shadow in the mirror paused — then shrank. It retreated slowly, as though uncertain. The mirror cleared.

But the knock at the closet returned — harder this time.

Lena turned, face pale. She didn’t open it. She couldn’t. She left the hotel that night and never checked out.

Now she travels constantly. Always watching windows. Avoiding reflections. Sleeping in daylight.

She knows the shadow is still out there. And it's patient. It waits in dark places. It remembers her name. And one day, when she's tired or careless, it will knock again.

And that time, she might answer.