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The Lurking

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As a child, I always had the feeling that someone was watching me. Whenever I was travelling, I could sense that someone or something was following me, even though I found nothing whenever I looked around. My parents didn’t think much of it at first, but seeing how scared I was, they made it a habit to never allow me out of their sight. These feelings lingered as I grew older, although they weren’t as strong as before. I would sometimes sense a presence around me whenever I did my homework—and I could have sworn I heard whispers echoing in the air sometimes in the dead silence of the school library. This weird experience led me to write short stories in my spare time, and I even got the idea to write a novel one day. Writing helped me pour out my experiences in a way that nothing else did, and I often found it soothing. Following my parents’ advice, I also saw a therapist as a teenager, but while the sessions helped me to some degree, the sense of brewing danger never truly faded. In t...
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Life and Death

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As a child, I was always fascinated by death, especially when exploring myths and legends that covered Death as an entity. This became an obsession as I reached my teenage years, and even led me to pursue subjects like mythology and theology in my higher studies. One night, I was driving home after work when my brakes stopped working, forcing me off the road and into a lamp post. When I woke up, or what I thought was waking up, I found myself in a hospital room, but my soul was floating next to my body. Mom and Dad were there, so were a few of my relatives. “Am I dead?” I asked myself. “No, you still have time, although how much may depend on you,” a voice rose from behind. I turned around to find a figure standing before me, dressed in dark attire and with an aura that was alluring for reasons I couldn’t comprehend. “Who… Who are you?” I asked. “I’m the one person you’ve been searching for information about all your life; the same person your mother asked you not to ask questions abou...
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The Gamble of Life

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My father was a dealer at a casino, but it was not long before he himself became a gambler. It was just a hobby for him at first, but later, it spiralled into a full-blown addiction. He was on a winning streak for weeks, often bringing Mom and me lots of presents and treating us to many luxurious meals at places I had never even heard of before. However, those happy memories were short-lived once he started losing. This caused tension between Mom and Dad as Dad refused to fight off his addiction and seek professional help. Mom, exhausted by his stubbornness, divorced Dad just a year later, and I rarely got to see him afterwards. I was just ten at the time, so I didn’t understand much, but entering my teens, the reality of what happened weighed on me more and more as the years passed by. Remembering how I enjoyed Dad’s gambling stories, I feared going down a similar path. Ten years have passed since the divorce, and Dad and I meet once a month to catch up. He has relapsed a few times si...
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Shadows of Justice

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Coming from a religious home, I spent most of my life seeing the world as black and white, good and evil, but as I reached my teens and started to follow the news, I was swallowed by the vast ocean of grey that surrounded me. People who preached the word of god, leaders who were meant to inspire us, artists who were supposed to give us hope—so many of them were the worst people imaginable. So many of them had ties with people who made such atrocities their line of work. It was not long before I began to question my faith, wondering what kind of higher power would turn their back on their creation’s suffering. My parents called my questioning blasphemous and refused to have a discussion on the topic. Even some of my friends were offended when I spoke to them about the subject. One of them said as a joke that maybe I should summon the Devil to see what they would say, but I took it seriously and decided to go ahead with it the following day. That same night, however, I was suddenly awake...
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In Spirit

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My sister, Rana, always struggled with strange experiences. She would often drift off mid-conversation and begin to wander off as if our discussions never even happened; on other occasions, we’d find her sleepwalking past locked doors. While these were not frequent at first, they became a common occurrence as she grew older. Grandma insisted that it was possession and said she needed to call her witch friend, Mina, but she was alone in her belief. My parents made an appointment for Rana with a specialist, but the treatment only seemed to work for a couple of days before she returned to her routine. Mom and Dad spent weeks checking with different doctors, but it was to no avail. Rana’s sleepwalking only escalated as time passed. One night, Mom put the door keys in a new safe she bought, but the next morning, she woke up to find the safe broken into and the front door fully open. Rana was thankfully not missing, and without harm; however, that same morning, we heard alarming news that ma...
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The Forgotten Ones

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I once saw the god Anu in a TV series when I was six and was devastated when he was killed off. He was my favourite character, and I wished so badly for his return in the series that I even prayed for it. Two weeks passed with me wishing for Anu’s return, and he indeed did appear in the series once again, but something was off… ​ It seemed that I was the only one who could see Anu in the series. My parents paid no attention to it; they probably assumed it was simply my imagination. However, things became weirder as the months progressed, as I started seeing Anu in various other TV series, and even in cartoons. I brought this up with my parents, yet they shrugged it off the same as before, saying I was just too attached to the character. I almost believed them, but deep down, I knew there was more to it than that. ​ As I grew older, however, my interests shifted, and I slowly forgot about the character I once adored. By the time I was in university, he was but a distant memory. However,...
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The Pony Friend

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The day after my parents and I returned home from our trip to the countryside, I pleaded with them to get me a pony. The pony rides were truly an enthralling experience—one that I wished I could live through every day. My parents were hesitant at first, but they finally said they’d give me a pony. However, weeks turned into months, and I eventually wrote to Santa, requesting one for Christmas. The next morning, I woke up to my parents yelling outside. I rushed to the porch to see what the commotion was and found myself stupefied upon seeing a fire-breathing pony galloping around the garden. The second the pony saw me, however, it stopped running and slowly approached me. My parents stood in front of me, blocking its path, but I snuck past them to greet my new friend. The pony had a string chain around its neck, and to it was attached an envelope that was addressed to me. I undid the strings and opened the envelope; my eyes widened as I read the letter in it. Dear Alina, Thank you so mu...
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