The Friend in the Shadows

When the Garfields moved into the old Victorian house at the edge of River Creek, they weren’t looking for trouble. The house, with its creaky floorboards and peeling wallpaper, was a fixer-upper, perfect for a fresh start after the turbulence of the past year. Five-year-old Rita was especially thrilled, skipping through the overgrown garden and exploring the nooks and crannies with wide-eyed wonder.

It wasn’t long before Rita began talking about her new friend.

“His name is Mister Shades,” she announced one morning over breakfast, her legs swinging under the table. Her parents, Elizabeth and David, exchanged amused glances.

“Oh, an imaginary friend?” Elizabeth asked, buttering Rita’s toast.

Rita frowned as though offended. “He’s not imaginary. He lives in the walls.”

David chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Well, make sure Mister Shades helps you clean up your toys.”

Rita scowled. “He doesn’t like being bossed around.”

That was the first time Elizabeth felt it—a faint unease creeping up her spine. But she quickly brushed it off. Children had vivid imaginations, after all.

Rita spent more and more time in her room as the days went by. Elizabeth would often find her sitting cross-legged on the floor, whispering to an empty corner or giggling at nothing. When asked what was so funny, Rita would only say, “Mister Shades told me a joke.”

At first, Elizabeth found it endearing. But soon, oddities began piling up. Toys moved on their own, ending up in places Rita couldn’t reach. A faint tapping would echo through the house at night, rhythmic and deliberate, as though someone—or something—was trying to communicate.

One evening, Elizabeth walked past Rita’s room and froze. The door was ajar, and inside, Rita sat facing the wall.

“Rita, honey, what are you doing?” Elizabeth asked, stepping inside.

Rita turned, her face lit with an innocent smile. “I’m playing with Mister Shades. He’s teaching me a game.”

Elizabeth’s eyes darted to the wall. It was bare, but a faint chill lingered in the air. She forced a smile. “Okay, sweetie. Dinner’s ready soon.”

As Elizabeth walked away, she swore she heard a whisper—a deep sound that definitely didn’t belong to her daughter.

Over the next few weeks, Mister Shades became a constant presence in their lives. Rita talked about him with unnerving specificity.

“He’s really tall, but he can shrink if he wants to,” she explained one afternoon, her crayons scattered across the table. “And he doesn’t like the sun. It makes him hide.”

David laughed. “Sounds like a vampire!”

“No,” Rita said, her tone deadly serious. “Mister Shades isn’t like that. He’s from the dark places.”

Elizabeth felt her stomach twist.

The breaking point came on a stormy night. Rain lashed against the windows as thunder growled in the distance. Elizabeth was tucking Rita into bed when her daughter suddenly grabbed her wrist.

“Mommy,” Rita whispered, her voice trembling. “Mister Shades says he doesn’t like you.”

Elizabeth’s breath hitched. “Why would he say that?”

Rita’s gaze shifted to the shadowy corner of the room. “Because you don’t believe in him. He says that makes him angry.”

Elizabeth forced a smile, brushing Rita’s hair back. “Well, tell Mister Shades that I think he’s very creative.”

Rita didn’t smile back. “He says you can’t lie to him.”

That night, Elizabeth lay in the bed, her thoughts churning. She tried to dismiss Rita’s words, to write them off as a child’s overactive imagination. But the oppressive weight of the house made it impossible to relax.

A soft creak echoed through the hallway. Elizabeth sat up, her heart pounding. David snored beside her, oblivious.

The creaking grew louder, closer.

Gathering her courage, Elizabeth swung her legs out of bed and tiptoed to the door. She peeked into the hallway, her breath caught in her throat. The corridor was dark, save for a faint sliver of moonlight spilling through the window.

And then she saw it.

A shape—tall, thin, and unnaturally contorted—moved at the edge of the shadows. Its limbs seemed too long, its movements jerky and unnatural.

Elizabeth gasped, slamming the door shut.

David woke with a start. “What’s going on?”

“There’s something in the house!” she whispered, her voice shaking.

David grabbed a baseball bat from under the bed and marched into the hallway, flipping on the light. The corridor was empty.

“You’re just tired,” he said, pulling her into a reluctant hug. But Elizabeth knew what she had seen.

The next morning, Elizabeth decided to confront Rita.

“Sweetie, does Mister Shades ever hurt you?”

Rita shook her head. “No, Mommy. He likes me. He says he wants to keep me.”

“Keep you?”

Rita nodded as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “He says we’re going to play forever.”

Elizabeth’s blood turned cold.

Desperate for answers, Elizabeth began researching the house’s history. She discovered a chilling pattern: over the past century, three children had gone missing from the property, their disappearances unsolved. All were last seen playing in their rooms.

Fueled by fear, Elizabeth returned home, determined to protect her daughter. She burst into Rita’s room to find her daughter sitting in the corner again, this time holding out her hand to the empty air.

“Rita, stop!” Elizabeth cried, pulling her away.

Rita screamed, writhing in her grip. “You’re making him mad! Let me go!”

“Rita, there’s no Mister Shades!” Elizabeth shouted, her voice cracking.

The room fell deathly silent. And then, the shadows in the corner began to move.

A shape emerged, pulling itself from the darkness. Its limbs twisted unnaturally as it rose to its full height. The air grew icy, and the stench of decay filled the room.

Rita stopped struggling, her eyes wide with terror. “Mommy… he’s here.”

Elizabeth grabbed Rita, holding her close as the figure advanced. Its face was a void, an absence that seemed to suck the light from the room.

“Stay away!” Elizabeth screamed, her voice trembling.

The figure paused, tilting its head as though considering her plea. Then it spoke, its voice a rasping hiss that seemed to vibrate through the walls.

“She belongs to me. You cannot stop what has already begun.”

Elizabeth clenched her teeth, her maternal instinct outweighing her fear. “You can’t have her! Leave my daughter alone!”

The figure let out a low, resonating laugh. Shadows coiled around it like smoke, stretching toward Rita.

In a surge of desperation, Elizabeth grabbed a lamp and hurled it at the entity. The bulb shattered, flooding the room with sparks and a burst of light. The figure recoiled, its form flickering before dissipating into the walls.

The next day, the Garfields packed their belongings and fled the house, leaving behind the creaking floorboards and peeling wallpaper. They didn’t speak of Mister Shades again, but Rita occasionally glanced over her shoulder, her small hand clutching Elizabeth’s tightly.

Months later, Elizabeth awoke in the middle of the night to find Rita standing at the foot of her bed, her eyes wide and haunted.

“He’s still with me,” Rita whispered…