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June 24th , 2025

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WINFRED KWAO

23 hours ago

THE EVENING MY SHADOW SPOKE

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The Evening My Shadow Spoke

A Whisper from the Dark Within

Some nights peel back the skin of the ordinary, revealing truths we’d rather keep buried. Last winter, under a moonless sky, I stood alone in my room, and my shadow—cast sharp by a flickering lamp—moved when I didn’t. It spoke, its voice a low hum, pulling me into a conversation I never expected. This is the story of that eerie night, woven with my own reflections, a dance with the part of me I’ve always feared to face.


A Stir in the Silence

It was past midnight, the house creaking with winter’s chill. I’d been restless, pacing, my mind heavy with doubts—work piling up, a fight with a friend unresolved. I think of my cousin, who’d stay up late wrestling with choices, saying darkness sharpens the mind’s edges. As I passed the lamp, my shadow stretched across the wall, longer than it should’ve been. Then it shifted, a tilt of its head, and whispered my name.

I froze, heart hammering, like the time I heard my grandmother’s voice years after she passed, calling me from a dream. The shadow’s voice was mine but colder, like an echo from a well. “You’re running,” it said, “from what you know.” I wanted to laugh it off, blame exhaustion, but its words cut deep, naming fears I’d buried: failure, loneliness, the weight of choices unmade.


The Mirror of Truth

The shadow didn’t move as I did—it leaned closer, its edges blurring like smoke. It spoke of the job I hated but clung to, the friend I’d pushed away, the dreams I’d shelved for safety. I recall my aunt, who faced her regrets after a journal entry forced her to see them plain. This wasn’t just a shadow—it was me, stripped bare, holding a mirror to my heart’s quiet lies.

It asked questions I couldn’t dodge: Why do you stay where you’re unhappy? Why do you hide from what you want? I thought of my friend, who found clarity in a midnight walk, the stars urging honesty. I answered, haltingly, admitting I feared change, feared failing those I love. The shadow nodded, its form softening, as if my confession eased its restless shape. Studies, like those in The Journal of Psychology, say confronting inner truths can spark growth; that night, I felt it, raw and real.


A Pact in the Dark

As the lamp flickered, the shadow grew still, its voice now a whisper. “Choose,” it said, “or I’ll choose for you.” I laughed, nervous, but its gaze—somehow alive—held me. I promised to act: to talk to my friend, to rethink my job, to chase one dream, just one. I think of my brother, who quit a toxic career after a moment of clarity, his life brighter for it. The shadow faded as I spoke, blending back into the wall, leaving only silence and a strange peace.

I woke the next morning unsure if it was real or a dream, but the weight in my chest was lighter. I called my friend, apologized, and felt our bond mend. I started sketching again, a dream I’d buried, each line a step toward courage. The shadow, real or not, was my own voice, demanding I listen. I think of my grandmother’s dream-voice, guiding me still. That night taught me our shadows hold truths we can’t outrun—but we can face them.


A Call to Listen

If your shadow speaks, don’t turn away. It’s not a ghost—it’s you, the part that knows what you hide. I keep a lamp on now, not for light, but to see my shadow’s shape, a reminder to stay honest. I think of my aunt’s journal, my brother’s bold leap. We all have shadows, whispering what we fear to say. Write them down, face them, let them guide you.

That evening changed me, not with answers, but with questions that lit my way. If your shadow stirs, listen. It’s not here to haunt—it’s here to help you heal, to push you toward the life you’re meant to live. Mine spoke once, and I’m still learning its language, one truthful step at a time.


Ethical Note: This piece is a fictional narrative inspired by themes of self-discovery, inner conflict, and the uncanny, grounded in general knowledge of psychological introspection and literary motifs. It is crafted to be original and authentic, with no direct reproduction of existing works. Any resemblance to specific narratives beyond common themes is coincidental. The content aims to evoke introspection and empathy while respecting creative integrity and the emotional depth of the subject matter.




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WINFRED KWAO

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