The Stalker's Shadow Horror Story

Table of Contents

A Terrifying Office Stalker Tale

Catherine Blake had always considered herself a rational woman. At twenty-eight years old, she had built a respectable career as a senior marketing analyst in one of Chicago’s most prestigious corporate towers. Her days were filled with carefully organized spreadsheets, tight deadlines, and the constant hum of office life. She was admired for her sharp intelligence, her calm professionalism, and her polished appearance. With her long dark hair, flawless makeup, and confident posture, Catherine was often the center of attention in the workplace. Yet beneath that composed exterior, she carried a quiet loneliness that came with living alone in the city. Life felt predictable, controlled, and safe—until the shadows began to follow her.

It started on a rainy Tuesday evening in early autumn. The sky was dark, heavy with clouds, and the air smelled of wet asphalt. Catherine left the glass tower of her office building just as the sun dipped below the skyline. Neon lights reflected off the slick pavement, painting the streets in glowing streaks of red and blue. Her heels clicked rhythmically as she walked, each step echoing against the empty sidewalk. She pulled her coat tighter around her slim frame and checked her phone for the time.

"Late again," she muttered to herself with a tired sigh.

As she approached the subway entrance, a strange sensation crept over her. It was the uncomfortable feeling of being watched, like unseen eyes were following her every movement. Her shoulders stiffened, and she slowed her pace. Carefully, Catherine glanced over her shoulder.

At the far end of the street stood a tall figure beneath a flickering streetlamp. The light buzzed weakly, casting distorted shadows across the wet ground. The man wore a long black coat that blended into the darkness, and his face was hidden beneath the shadow of his hood. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He simply stood there, watching.

Catherine’s heart skipped a beat. "Probably just waiting for someone," she whispered, forcing herself to stay calm. Chicago was full of strange people, after all.

She turned away and hurried down the subway stairs, her footsteps echoing loudly in the empty tunnel. The air smelled of metal and damp concrete. When the train finally arrived, she rushed inside and grabbed a seat near the door, her pulse still racing.

As the train lurched forward, Catherine lifted her gaze—and her blood ran cold.

The same man stood at the far end of the car.

His posture was unnaturally stiff, his head tilted slightly to one side as if he were studying her. The dim fluorescent lights flickered above, casting his face in shadow. None of the other passengers seemed to notice him.

"Okay, this is getting weird," Catherine whispered, gripping her purse.

At the next stop, she jumped up and rushed out of the train without thinking. Her breath came fast as she climbed the stairs back to the street. The platform was empty. For a moment, relief washed over her like a warm wave.

But when she reached the sidewalk, the streetlamp flickered again.

The man was standing across the road.

This time, he smiled.

The smile stretched too wide, far wider than any human smile should. His lips curled upward in a way that made Catherine’s stomach twist. The corners of his mouth seemed to tear, revealing darkness where teeth should have been.

Catherine didn’t think. She ran.

Her heels slipped on the wet pavement as she sprinted toward her apartment building. Rain soaked her hair, and her lungs burned with every breath. The city lights blurred into streaks of color as fear pushed her faster than she’d ever run before.

She fumbled with her keys at the entrance, her hands shaking violently. Her heart pounded in her ears. She dared to glance back.

The street was empty.

No man. No shadow. Just the quiet hum of traffic in the distance.

Relief flooded through her body as she locked the door behind her. Her legs felt weak as she leaned against the wall.

"Just my imagination," she whispered. "I’m overworked. That’s all."

But that night, as Catherine lay in bed staring at the ceiling, she heard footsteps in the hallway outside her apartment.

Slow. Heavy. Deliberate.

Each step echoed like a distant drumbeat. Her skin prickled with unease.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Unknown Number: I can see you.

Catherine sat up so fast her head spun. Her fingers trembled as she typed a response.

Catherine: Who is this?

No reply came.

The footsteps stopped right outside her door.

Then came a soft knock.

Knock. Knock.

Her breath caught in her throat. "Go away," she whispered, clutching her phone like a lifeline.

Silence followed.

After several agonizing minutes, Catherine forced herself to stand and look through the peephole. The hallway was empty. No sign of anyone.

The next morning, she told herself she had overreacted. Stress, lack of sleep, and too much caffeine had played tricks on her mind. But the uneasy feeling never left.

At work, her coworker Mia noticed her pale face and dark circles.

"You look like you saw a ghost," Mia joked lightly.

Catherine forced a smile. "Just a rough night."

That afternoon, as Catherine stared at her computer screen, she noticed her reflection in the dark glass. Behind her, a shadow stood where no one should have been — a moment that felt disturbingly similar to The Home Video from Hell.

Her breath caught. She spun around.

No one was there.

Her phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number: You belong to me.

Her hands shook so badly she nearly dropped the phone. "This is harassment," she whispered to herself.

Building security found nothing. The cameras showed no strange figure. The phone number was untraceable.

Terrified, Catherine decided to stay with her friend Lily for a few nights.

"You’re safe here," Lily said confidently. "Probably just some creep messing with you."

But around midnight, the power went out.

The apartment fell into darkness.

They lit candles, their flames casting long, twisting shadows along the walls. Catherine’s chest tightened when one shadow moved on its own.

"Lily…" she whispered.

A cold voice echoed.

"You can’t escape me."

The candles went out.

When the lights returned, the shadow was gone.

Shaken, Catherine researched her apartment building’s history. Old newspapers revealed a chilling story.

A woman named Evelyn Hart had been stalked by an obsessive coworker. He followed her everywhere, sending messages and watching her from the shadows. One night, Evelyn vanished. Her body was never found — a mystery eerily similar to The Missing Persons Case Unsolved.

Catherine lived in Evelyn’s old apartment.

"What if the stalker isn’t alive?" Catherine whispered.

That night, she prepared a ritual to confront the spirit.

"If you’re here," she said, "show yourself."

The temperature dropped. A dark figure formed.

"You look like her," it hissed.

"Like who?" Catherine asked.

"Evelyn."

"You killed her," Catherine said.

"She tried to leave," the spirit laughed.

The shadow lunged.

Catherine threw salt and raised a silver necklace.

The ghost screamed and vanished.

For a moment, Catherine believed it was over.

But the final message arrived.

Unknown Number: I’m still watching.

Catherine moved away, changed everything about her life, but some nights she still sees a familiar shadow under the streetlights.

Because some stalkers never stop.

And some shadows never fade.