My Shadow Moves First

Alright — here’s a long-form psychological horror story with a slow burn, escalating dread, and a hard twist ending, written with video narration in mind. --- My Shadow Moves First I first noticed it on a Tuesday. Nothing special about the day—no storms, no power outages, no strange dreams lingering in my head when I woke up. Just sunlight slipping through the torn curtains of my apartment and dust floating lazily in the air like it always did. I was brushing my teeth when it happened. I leaned forward to rinse my mouth. My shadow leaned forward before I did. It was subtle. A fraction of a second. Barely enough to register. If I hadn’t been staring straight down at the cracked tile floor, I would’ve missed it completely. I froze, toothpaste dripping from my mouth. The shadow stopped too. I straightened slowly. The shadow followed—perfectly normal now, like nothing had happened. I laughed under my breath, shaking my head. “Get some sleep,” I muttered to myself. I chalked it up to bad lighting. Morning sun does weird things. Shadows stretch, bend, lie. But once you notice something like that… you start watching. --- The Watching Begins For the next few days, I caught myself checking my shadow constantly. On the sidewalk. On the walls at work. In shop windows as I passed by. Every time, it behaved. Stayed glued to me like it was supposed to. Almost. On Thursday evening, I was walking home when I stopped at a crosswalk. The streetlight flickered above me, buzzing softly. I shifted my weight. My shadow shifted just a little too early. This time, I was sure. My heart jumped into my throat. I stared at the dark shape stretched across the pavement. It stood still now, mimicking me perfectly, innocent as a photograph. I took a slow step forward. It followed. I stepped back. It followed. Normal. Logical. Safe. But my skin prickled with the feeling of being watched—from below. I laughed again, louder this time, earning a strange look from a passerby. I hurried home and locked the door behind me, feeling foolish. That night, I dreamed of standing in a room full of mirrors. No matter where I looked, my reflection was always just a second late. --- Rules Begin to Break By the following week, the delay was impossible to ignore. Sometimes my shadow blinked when I didn’t. Sometimes it tilted its head, just a few degrees, as if curious. Once, while I sat at my desk typing, my shadow’s hands stopped moving altogether. I watched them, frozen on the wall, while my real fingers continued clacking away at the keyboard. I yanked my hands back. The shadow snapped into place instantly. I pushed my chair away from the desk, breathing hard. The room felt wrong—too quiet, like the air itself was listening. I started keeping lights on at all times. Lamps. Ceiling lights. My phone flashlight when I moved from room to room at night. Darkness had become a threat, a place where my shadow could stretch and think and plan. Sleep became difficult. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt it standing over me. --- Testing It Fear turns into curiosity faster than you’d think. One night, standing in my bedroom with a single lamp casting my shadow across the wall, I decided to test it. I raised my arm quickly. The shadow raised its arm first. Clear as day. My stomach dropped. I lowered my arm. The shadow hesitated—just for a moment—then followed. “Do it again,” I whispered, not sure who I was talking to. I stepped sideways. It stepped first. I felt something snap inside me then. Not panic—worse. Understanding. This wasn’t a trick of the light. This wasn’t stress. Something was learning. I turned the lamp off. Darkness swallowed the room. From the blackness came a sound—soft, dry, like fabric sliding over skin. I didn’t turn the light back on until morning. --- It Starts to Copy More Than Me The shadow began doing things I hadn’t taught it. It scratched its head when I was thinking. It leaned against w

Disclaimer: This show may contain expletives, strong language, and mature content for adult listeners, including sexually explicit content and themes of violence. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real persons, businesses, places or events is coincidental. This show is not intended to offend or defame any individual, entity, caste, community, race, religion or to denigrate any institution or person, living or dead. Listener's discretion is advised.Less