#shadow person

Being an average numan, you're not able to even see magical things, let alone learn any magic for yourself. Things did get a bit easier when you befriended a witch in college- the regular cleansings and protective charms are a bit more affordable with a 'friends and family' discount, when every deflected curse in the city comes your way.

Still, on days like today, you go even farther out of your way to avoid any ill omens. While you'd like to just hole up all day in your apartment until midnight, the world doesn't stop spinning just because of the date, not many of the workplaces you've had have been sympathetic to paraskavedekatriaphobia as an excuse to call out.

So, you do what you can. You always splurge on a cab so you don't have to walk under any scaffolding on your normal route (you've found over the years that this too counts as a ladder), no manhole covers, no elevators. You don't even look in your bathroom mirror, or any mirror, if you can help it. No salt, no chopsticks, no whistling. No looking at birds or hearing birds or acknowledging the existence of birds, there's just too many species with bad reputations. And perhaps the most important one; NO GRAVEYARDS.

There is only one little blind spot for you this year-

You were recently hired at a cat rescue.

But it's fine. It's full up and there aren't there any currently with black fur. Or at least, there wasn't- yesterday.

What are the chances that one showed up over night?

"Yep, found him in the alley out back on my way in early this morning! Luckily that last adoption went through early, so we had just enough room to take him in." Your employer says cheerfully, gesturing to the small mass of black fur in the quarantine cage. She gently ribs you and adds; "Hope you're not superstitious."

You look down at the small, seemingly featureless creature, trying to act as if you aren't breaking out into a cold sweat.

"Cute." Is all you can manage to say. It's true, but…

"He is cute! And a bit… weird? Even for a cat."

"Oh yeah? How?"

"This sounds silly, but sometimes I'll look at him and it's like…" She balks a little, scoffing. "It'll be like he's not actually there but shows up a split second after looking at him? Like he takes a second to load in, haha…"

"Maybe he's some sort of… something? A magical something that's not a cat?" You hope the paranoia isn't coming through in your voice. "Should we call someone?"

"Mana scan was clean. So, the state-of-the-art veterinary machine seems to think he's a normal, fully domesticated void rex."

It's fine. It's just a little cat. You'll be extra careful to not move in front of it.

You go through the motions of your day; feedings, cleaning cages and litterboxes, giving enrichment and exercise. Most of the cats in-house at the moment are quite friendly, so it's a pleasant and easy enough shift overall.

Finally, the newcomer is the only one left to give some attention.

When you approach the quarantine cage (directly from the front), you notice that neither the kibble you dropped off earlier nor the water you filled has been touched.

In fact, it almost looks like the cage is empty- until you blink and suddenly see the vague outline of the small creature drenched in shadow at the very back of the cage.

You let out the breath you've been holding. You can't let the fact that you're freaked out make you neglect what is probably just a scared animal.

You steel yourself and open the cage door, then sit and wait to see if it decides to wander out.

It doesn't. You spend an inordinate amount of time sitting cross legged on the floor near the cage. Even when you look away, you can feel its eyes on you- though you have yet to actually see its eyes.

The loafing void seems content to just sit and observe.

Against your better judgment, you reach you hand tentatively into the cage to let them sniff.

When they don't immediately voice their displeasure, you slowly, tentatively lower your hand onto them in a gentle pat.

The creature's fur is soft to the touch, and after a pat or two you can feel the telltale rumble of a purr starting to emanate from their body.

Maybe you're being silly? Maybe this is just a cat.

Eventually, you give up and close the cage door, making a quick note in dry erase marker that it doesn't seem to mind touch but you'll need to put in some more work to get the newcomer more confident about leaving the cage.

Somehow you make it to the end of your shift without technically crossing the creature's path.

When it's finally time to head out, there are no rides available in your area. When you check the train schedule, they're all delayed by several hours due to some major traffic accident downtown.

You swear under your breath. You would've asked your manager for a ride home, but you declined and she's already gone- and quite frankly, you haven't been working this job long enough to be comfortable being the weird one yet.

You don't like the idea of standing in front of your workplace all night, so… you guess you'll be risking the walk back to your apartment.

You barely make it a block before you feel the sense of doom creeping up.

You sigh.

Something's following you. Because of course it is.

You immediately pick up your pace.

You don't have to see it to know it's there. There's always a bit of chill that creeps up the back of your neck, and itching in your teeth when there's some sort of something skulking around.

By time you reach the front door of your studio apartment, you're nearly running- but you make it inside and manage to slam the door behind you.

After a few moments spent listening while frozen at the door, you hear enough nothing to move. You kick off your shoes, dive onto your bed and wrap yourself in your duvet. You sit there like a very anxious burrito, watchful eye on your locked and bolted front door. If you just sit here for a few more hours, it will be tomorrow, and you can go back to a sustainable threat level.

That plan goes well until you hear some sort of scratching at your locked window that faces the street. You glance and see nothing, at first- and then a small piece of paper in the vague shape of a bird slips through the crack- fluttering past the sill and landing directly in the middle of the floor.

You close your eyes tight, curling in on yourself. It's just a piece of paper. You'll be fine.

But you can't fool yourself. You know it's a shikigami- and in this case, a representation of a serious curse that was meant for someone else.

You force yourself to watch through the gap in your fingers. If you're going to die, you might as well get the full experience.

Whatever it is you can't see is only marked by the paper bird plastered against what must be its head, if it has one. It has brought with it an icy chill, the sound of distant funeral bells, and the sickly sweet scent of embalming cinnamon incense and rot; and given the sheer weight of it making the floorboards groan, you wager it takes up most of the room.

But what you can see is a shadow push itself underneath the crack of your closed door. It rises up, a flat feline shape barely visible against the moonlit wall, ready to pounce.

You blink.

And then, all that remains is… a shadow? The suggestion of a person? Smack dab in the middle of the room, facing you. No sign there was anything else in the room, not even a shred of paper.

The room is instantly warmer.

You don't feel any fear as it draws closer- not even when it leans down and attempts to bunt its incorporeal head against yours in affection- only grateful bewilderment.

And then, it unceremoniously and instantaneously dissolves into what looks like a puddle of ink. The damp shadow then recedes underneath your bed and back out of sight.

And then- it's as if nothing weird ever happened.

Well, that's… new.

After a few moments of stunned, silent processing, you glance at the digital clock on your nightstand.

12:01 AM.

You can still feel a hum of… something, some sort of energy on the very edge of your perception, like a purring coming from underneath your bed.

It wasn't so bad living with the shadow creature, after all.

It did help you to find the remote control that night.

And that happened a few times again and again. You were trying to find something, and it miraculously just popped up from somewhere. You slowly started to suspect that it put your things away sometimes deliberately, just to please you with its helpfulness once you started searching for your mug, your keys, or your phone, anything really that you used somewhat frequently. Its presence started to annoy you less and less, sometimes even finding some comfort in the fact that you weren't alone.

It really did help cope with that, because in truth, you were very lonely in the last few months. You worked so much that your meetings with your friends were reduced to almost nothing, except for the two nights of sleepover when your friend hung around with you at the beginning of the shadow appearing.

And dating? No chance for that, either.

Sometimes it didn't bother you; you enjoyed the solitude, but on other nights, you felt dreadfully lonely, crying in your bed like a child, thinking about how the bed felt uncomfortably cold and empty. How isolated you felt in your little, dark apartment, on your own.

Or, almost on your own. Because lately, whether you noticed or not, you were never truly alone.

You were spread out on your bed, trying to feel something nice, for once. Hair messy, fingers in your pyjama pants, curling softly around the sensitive bead of nerves between your legs. Truth to be told, it wasn't as good as it could be with someone else, but right now, it was the only way to release some tension. The only way to not feel lonely and pathetic.

At first, you didn't notice it, swirling in the dark, his movements uncomfortable as it watched you, slowly shifting closer, sliding from the corner, to the shadow of your bed. It ducked under it, appearing on the other side of the bed where you faced as you were lying on your bed.

A shadow, a silhouette of a head, peeked at you, and you only noticed it when you opened your eyes just the slightest. Your breath hitched, your hands flinching away from your core, but you didn't turn away or flee; you were just staring into the shadow, and surprisingly, it felt like it was staring right back at you.

"Can you please stop looking at me while I try to... You know..."

It felt weird to ask it to stop... Well, stalking you? Observing you? It was its thing, right? And, it didn't move. Just stayed there, staring at you.

It felt awkward. Your hands slowly withdrew from your pants, and you sighed in frustration. There goes your plant to make yourself feel good.

"Thanks, you ruined it." You growled, getting up from the bed like it wasn't even there.

An irritated hour and a cold shower later, you were in your bed again, but for an entirely different reason this time. You were trying to sleep, trying to forget about the whole day, especially the night.

But someone... Something didn't want to forget it. It couldn't. It was there, from the beginning, when your breathing got heavier, it heard the shuffling sound as your hands wandered beneath your pants, slick noises when your pussy got wet, and oh, how it swirled in that twisted, dark mind ever since.

Feeling restless, he appeared again, crawling out under your bed curiously, almost prowling like a cat, searching for its favorite human.

You were, like before, completely unaware of the apparatus looming over you like a hungry animal. You were on the brink of slumber; you didn't even notice how the blanket slightly shifted.

But once you felt the touch on your inner thigh, your body jolted, your eyes opening wide as you stared at the dark shadow of a person next to your bed. You never see it from so close. Yet, you still didn't see anything. It didn't look like anyone, just a shadow, a mere silhouette of a... A man? Maybe a man, but you weren't sure.

The only thing you were sure of was the familiar pool of heat in your belly as the strange, slight warmth of the touch lingered on your skin. His... This was the first time you thought of him as something more than just a genderless, shapeless shadow.

You stared into the darkest of darkness for a few moments, trying to decide if it's a strange kind of sleep paralysis or some fucked up nightmare.

But then it happened again. You felt the touch, although he didn't move at all; he was just standing there, looking at you. But somehow, you felt the softest touch of fingers on your skin. Beneath the layer of your pants.

Your breathing got heavier again, and for him, it was the clearest indicator. He was doing something right to earn that soft, quiet noise from you.

This wasn't a paralysis. You could move, you knew you could move.

Yet you didn't.

Shock? Fear? Curiosity? ...lust?

You weren't sure, but you didn't move, not when you felt another touch, ghostly fingers tracing your cheek. You didn't feel anything like that in a long, long time.

South, his fingers raked your thigh again, but this time they moved upwards, slowly reaching the hem of your panties.

Maybe you were slowly going insane in your solitude, but without much thinking, you spread your legs a little wider. Like he would need space to move closer. You didn't have time to feel dumb about it, not now, when three fingers pressed down on fabric above your core, an impossibly soft as he moved up to your clit.

You couldn't help but mewl, fingers gripping on your blanket, licking your lips. Maybe it was a dream after all. There was no other sensible explanation of how this could happen to you. But it did, and you decided to go with it.

And he took pride in the fact that you did. The faint touch on your cheek remained, like he was trying to reassure you, knowing very well how confusing the situation was for you. But he had plans to make you forget those worries.

He could slip under your panties, but he didn't, teasing your neglected little clit. It was the first time anyone touched it, other than you, in a long, long time. And it felt incredible. Your body jolted, little bolts of electricity jumped through your veins, and the hot pool in your belly heated up again. Phantoms of fingers pressed down on your clit again, testing how that would make you feel, and as he heard your desperately little noises, he knew he was doing it right.

Braver now, his fingers started to circle around the bead, the soft yet firm touch and fabric of your underwear cupping your clit as they moved made your head spin too. You could already feel your core slickening with arousal, and when you thought the sensation couldn't be any sweeter, he fastened his movement.

A mewl slipped from your lips, your legs spread wider to find a new angle. But then, he suddenly stopped.

You looked up at the shadow, standing there without a sound or the slightest of movement. He gave you the creeps, to be honest, but somehow, in a twisted way, it only just fueled your desire, fogging up your sanity with a thick haze of desire.

Just when you started to get confused, you felt it.

The ghostly fingers touched your clit again, but under your drenched panties this time. It was insane, how the fabric didn't move at all, yet you felt his digits, or well, something that felt like digits, circling your clit relentlessly, even faster now.

You closed your eyes, completely lost in lust now, your whole body felt on fire, and you could feel your peak closing on you. You couldn't even keep your sounds to yourself now; the soft mewls and huffed sighs turned into louder moans.

You came, suddenly, hard, your mind spinning as the white waves of pleasure washed over your body. Your clit was throbbing, panties pathetically wet.

Once your mind stopped spinning, you slowly opened your eyes, and you froze.

He wasn't there.

You slowly sat up, hazy eyes trying to search the room for any sign of him.

But he left you there, making you wonder.