**My Daughter Always Comes Home at 1:00 AM from SchoolAnd Her Shadow Doesnt Follow**
Some things you only notice when you look too hard or when something refuses to look back. For me, it started with something I *didnt* see.
A shadow.
My daughters shadow.
It wasnt there.
And it hasnt returned since.
Her name is Lily. Shes twelve. She loves strawberries, maths, and dancing to TikTok routines in front of the cracked bathroom mirror. For the first twelve years of her life, Lily was pure sunshinemessy braids, muddy socks, always humming some off-key tune.
Until three weeks ago.
Thats when she started coming home at 1:00 in the morning.
The first night, I nearly passed out when the front door creaked open so late. Id fallen asleep on the sofa, waiting for her after her after-school clubs. She was meant to be home by 6:30 PM. By 10:00, I called her school, her friends, her tutorno one had seen her.
Then, at 1:00 AM, she walked in.
Too calm. Far too calm.
I jolted awake.
Lily! Where *were* you? I was
But she slowly raised her hand and said,
Dont worry, Im fine.
That was it.
No tears.
No apologies.
No fear.
She walked straight to her room and locked the door.
I stared at the floor for ages. Something felt off. The air she brought in was icy, like shed stepped out of a freezer. The hallway lights flickered once and steadied. I told myself I was overthinking. Kids her age get weird sometimes, right?
Wrong.
The next night, same thing. She didnt return until 1:00 AM. Again, she walked in like she lived in another time zone, no explanations. Same words. Same tone.
But this time, I noticed.
She passed under the dining room lamp and her shadow didnt.
It just wasnt there.
No outline.
No shape.
Nothing.
I thought I was hallucinating. I turned on every light in the house and made her stand under them. Nothing. The light hit her face, but the floor behind her stayed empty. She caught me staring.
Whats wrong, Mum? she asked.
I blinked. Nothing. Just tired.
She nodded and walked away.
And I watched her go. Her body moved but no shadow followed.
The next day, I rang the school and asked why they were letting her out so late. The woman on the phone hesitated. Then she said,
Miss, your daughter hasnt attended since last term over three weeks ago. We sent several notes, but you never replied.
My heart stopped.
She leaves every morning, I whispered. She puts on her uniform. Even takes her water bottle.
I checked the fridge after the call. Her water bottle was still there. Untouched. Exactly as Id left it the day of her last exam.
That night, I didnt sleep.
I turned off all the lights. Sat by the living room window. And waited.
At exactly 1:00 AM, the front gate opened by itself.
And she walked in.
Lily. But not Lily.
On the outside, she looked the same. But her eyes didnt blink right. Her breathing was off. She tilted her head at me.
Why are you awake, Mum? she asked.
I forced a smile. Waiting for you.
Then I said something I hadnt planned:
Wheres your shadow?
She smiled.
But not with her mouthwith something colder.
It stayed behind.
And she walked past me.
But I swearwhen she passed the hallway mirror, something *did* appear for a second.
Something taller than her.
Something with eyes too big and a smile too thin.
I looked away, heart pounding, hands shaking.
Now shes in her room.
Sleeping in her bed.
Breathing.
Silent. Calm.
But her shadow
Her *real* shadow?
I think its still outside.
And I think its waiting to come in.
**Episode 2: What Creeps Under the Door**
Since Lily returned, the house doesnt breathe the same.
During the day, everything seems normal.
Lily gets up, sits for breakfast, but doesnt eat. She stirs her cereal.
Pretends to flip through her notebooks. Sometimes she hums songs Ive never heard. The lyrics arent in any language I know.
And at dusk, she just disappears.
She doesnt say where shes going. Doesnt ask to leave.
The door opens and shuts by itself at 6:45 PM. Not a minute early. Not a second late.
And Im left here waiting. In the dark. Alone.
With one question growing louder:
*Is that thing really my daughter?*
I started noticing little things.
The walls, for instance, breathe.
At least, they do when Lilys home.
The cracks in the ceiling widen slightly, like theyre stretching with her presence.
And the plants the ones Ive cared for for years are wilting only in her room.
Like something invisible touches them every night.
One night, I woke up thirsty.
I passed her door. It was ajar.
Inside, she wasnt sleeping.
She was sitting on the edge of her bed, her back to me.
Humming that language-less song.
Brushing the hair of a doll with no eyes.
And on the wall, right behind her, I saw a shadow.
But not hers.
It was taller. Thinner. It moved *before* she did, not after.
Like it was leading her, not the other way around.
I ran to my room. Locked the door.
Barricaded it with a chair.
Prayed.
But the truth is, even God stops listening when evil walks in on its own.
The next day, I did something desperate.
I grabbed Lilys most recent photo and compared it to one from a month ago.
And there it was.
The eyes.
In the old Lily, her irises were hazel.
In this Lily a greyish-green, like stagnant water.
And then I noticed something else.
Her pupils werent round. They were vertical. Like a cats. Or a snakes.
That night, I sprinkled flour on the hallway floor.
A trap.
Something simple.
At 1:00 AM, I heard the door open.
The soft footsteps.
And then, a pause.
I pretended to sleep but kept one eye open.
Lily stood in my doorway.
She didnt speak.
Didnt move.
Then I saw something shift under her feet.
In the flour, there were no human footprints.
Just thin, dragged marks like something with long claws walked inches above the ground.
But the worst part was the last thing:
a long, curved line, like a tail dragging behind her.
This morning, I found a note under my pillow.
It wasnt handwritten. The words looked burned into the paper.
It said:
*Mum, Im trapped. This isnt me. Dont let her in tomorrow.*
And now Im scared.
Because its 12:59.
And the gate outside
is already opening by itself.
**Episode 3: The Voice Behind the Door**
1:00 AM.
The clocks hand clicked into place.
Then: the front door opened on its own.
I was in the living room, clutching the note, my heart hammering like it wanted to break free.
But I didnt go to her. Not this time.
I hid behind the curtain, phone silenced, lights off.
I heard the steps.
One. Two. Three.
They werent a teenagers light tread.
They were heavier. Like she was carrying something. Or like she wasnt entirely human.
Then I heard her voice.
Mum Im home.
But it wasnt *her* voice.
Not quite.
It was too deep, with a strange echo, like two mouths speaking at once.
One higher, trying to sound like Lily.
The other dragging syllables like claws on glass.
Mum are you awake?
The doorknob turned.
I didnt breathe.
She didnt come in. Not yet.
Just pressed her forehead to the door.
And started crying.
But the tears didnt sound like tears.
They werent soft or wet.
They were dry, cracking, like something inside her was splintering.
Mum Im cold. Let me in
I wanted to. I wanted to run to her.
It was my daughters voice.
At least, part of it was.
But then I remembered
