Story: A Warning of the Shadows

Beware the thief of masks for he hunts in the shadows.

You know him because you have seen him before. He stands only just out of sight, and he does not move, and he does not speak. He follows and he hides. He hides in the dark corners of your home and you know this, and you do not go there. You fly from your basement – quickly, quickly up the stairs, and you’ve escaped. You turn to look back down the stairs, to make sure he hasn’t followed. And he is never there, but you knew; you knew he followed, so you ran. And you were smart.

You have seen him, but you cannot remember what he looks like. He is not a man but he stands like one. He is dark and his fingers are long. He stands, just out of the corner of your eye. You know that if you turned your head you’d see him. If you could only focus on that bit of black in the corner of your vision, you would catch him. If you were quick enough, you’d see your companion, but when you look, he is no longer there. He is gone again, but not for long. Ever persistent, he returns. Perhaps he will stand just a little closer this time, and perhaps he will move, and perhaps the hairs on the back of your neck will prickle and stand on end, and you will dare yourself to turn around, to check just once more that you are truly alone. And perhaps you will turn again, to find no one there. And you may go back to your book and think of him no more.

But sometimes, sometimes, the thief will grow bored. Sometimes he will cease his game, and he will not move, and you will turn and meet him eye to eye. He will pretend that you have offended him, that your gaze has unveiled him and you must pay the price for brazen intrusion. Should this happen, know that your time is short, for only the wisest of people have seen the thief and escaped, and you are not among them.
 The thief is capricious, and he is cruel. His favored trick, should you offend him, is your demise. Should you look at the thief, should you take the anonymity he covets, you will see him, and nothing else. He will make quick work of stripping you of your skin. He will eat you, and your heart will beat as his. When he is full, he will don your remains. He will wear your skin and assume your life. He will attend your job, and eat your food, and kiss your loved ones. None will miss you, for they will not know that you have gone, and you will rest forever in his stomach.

Watch closely your loved ones, for they may not be who they once were. You will know the thief when he becomes bored, and he shirks his duties. Be wary should animals run from them, for creatures can see the thief and have more respect for him than we. Perhaps he will move too quietly, and perhaps he will not laugh at your jokes, and perhaps you may catch just the smallest glimpse of his true form, and you will know that the thief has taken them.

Should you decide to confront the thief there is but one way to kill him. When he sleeps and you see that he does not stir, place kindling around your loved one. Be strong and light the blaze. Watch as they are engulfed in flames and, just as the fire has eaten them whole, you must cut out the heart.

You must be strong and kill the thief, or else be content to live a lie. Should your will run short you may content yourself to harbor this monster. They look like the one you have lost; they sound like them. How can you be sure they are not them? Do not ask this question for the seed of doubt will grow in your mind and once doubt takes root, you may never fully kill it. Strike once and be done with it. See the killer burn and die and know that you have avenged the one you loved.

Or you may live with your doubt. Touch the one you love and wonder if their flesh is still theirs. Share your meals with them and wonder if they taste with their own tongue. One day, perhaps, the thief will grow bored with his lie and with you, and you may turn your head to see him, and you will wish that you had lit the flame.

(a hand, reaching from the darkness)

Author's Note: This story was very loosely based on the story of The Lion Who Took the Woman's Shape, from South African mythology. In the story, a woman offends a lion and the two chase each other. When the lion finally pounces on her and eats her, he wears her skin, returns to her family and resumes her life, although he acts very strangely. Eventually, the woman's mother sees some of the lion's fur sticking out from under her skin. She gathers the village and they burn the lion and cut out its heart. The mother then places the heart in a jar with some milk and the daughter reappears from the jar some days later. I decided to make it a little spookier. I think most people tend to see things out of the corner of their eye even when they know that nothing is there. I thought that if this entity were more sinister, and especially if they took your skin, if would make a great urban legend sort of myth. In the end, there's no reviving the person you lost because that loses a bit of the spookiness of the story and regeneration feels kind of silly in the context of urban myths. It is also, of course, not a lion because that's not a creature you see much in suburban life.

 South African Folk-Tales by James Honey (1910)