Shadows in the Waking World
809 Words
Amara woke with a sharp gasp, her chest rising and falling too fast.
Morning light streamed through the blinds, but it did nothing to calm the pounding in her heart.
The dream.
It hadn’t faded.
It clung to her mind like something alive.
Slowly, she turned her head toward her pillow.
The black feather was still there.
Her throat went dry.
“I’m not imagining this…” she whispered.
Silence filled the apartment, heavy and unnatural.
Then—
Something caught her eye.
Her grandmother’s silver ring.
It sat on her bedside table…
But not where she had left it.
Amara froze.
A cold wave of realization washed over her.
“They’re crossing over…” she breathed.
The dreams weren’t staying in her sleep anymore.
She forced herself to get dressed, hands unsteady. By the time she stepped outside, the city was already alive—cars honking, voices rising, life moving as if nothing had changed.
But for her—
Everything had.
At the café, Tunde waved her over with an easy smile.
“Amara! You look—” He paused. “Are you okay?”
She sat down quickly. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
She forced a small laugh. “Just tired.”
Tunde leaned forward, studying her. “Tired doesn’t make people look like they’ve seen a ghost.”
Her fingers tightened around her cup.
If only you knew.
For a second, she almost told him everything—the corridor, the figure, the feather.
But the words died in her throat.
“I just need time to adjust,” she said instead.
Tunde didn’t look convinced.
“Alright,” he said slowly. “But if something’s wrong, you can tell me.”
Amara nodded.
But even as he spoke—
She felt it.
A presence.
Watching.
Her gaze flicked to the café window.
And for a split second—
She saw him.
Tall.
Dark.
Standing behind her.
Her breath caught.
She spun around—
Nothing.
Only people. Normal. Unaware.
Her pulse raced.
“It’s not just in my dreams anymore…” she thought.
By the time she got home, the sky had darkened.
She locked the door quickly, her hands trembling.
“This is real,” she whispered.
And that terrified her more than anything.
Sleep came whether she wanted it or not.
And when it did—
The dream returned.
This time, she stood in a forest.
Moonlight spilled across towering trees, their leaves glowing faintly like they were alive. A silver river cut through the land, shimmering unnaturally.
Amara’s breath slowed.
“It changed…” she whispered.
“You are learning.”
The voice froze her in place.
She turned.
The tall figure stepped out from the shadows.
Closer than ever.
Her body tensed. “What do you want from me?”
The figure tilted its head.
“You are not supposed to walk between worlds.”
A chill crawled down her spine.
“I didn’t choose this!”
“Choice is irrelevant.”
The ground beneath her feet pulsed.
Before she could react, the river stirred.
A woman rose from its surface—floating, radiant, her silver hair flowing like water.
“Amara,” she said gently. “You are touching what should remain hidden.”
Amara shook her head. “I don’t understand any of this!”
“You will,” the woman replied. “Or you will break.”
The words hit harder than any threat.
Suddenly—
A scream tore through the forest.
The trees shook violently.
The tall figure moved forward.
Fast.
Amara’s instincts kicked in.
She ran.
Branches clawed at her. The forest twisted, shifting with every step.
Then—
A boy stood ahead.
Still. Waiting.
“Help me!” she cried.
He didn’t speak.
He raised his hand.
The river surged.
It rushed toward her like a living thing.
“No—!”
The shadow figure appeared beside him—
Blocking him.
The air froze.
Everything stopped.
And then—
Darkness.
Amara jolted awake.
Her body ached like she had actually run.
The room was silent.
Too silent.
Slowly—
She turned toward her bedside table.
Another feather.
Smaller.
Darker.
Her hands shook as she picked it up.
“They’re getting closer…” she whispered.
Her phone buzzed suddenly, making her flinch.
Tunde.
“You okay? You didn’t reply last night.”
Amara stared at the message.
She wanted to call him.
To hear something normal.
To escape this.
But deep down—
She knew.
Normal was gone.
Forever.
She typed slowly:
“I’m fine.”
But even as she sent it—
A shadow moved in the corner of her room.
Amara’s breath caught.
She turned.
Nothing.
But the feeling remained.
Something was inside her world now.
Watching.
Waiting.
And next time—
It might not just leave a feather behind.
- Writer
