First Encounter
My name is Alice. I was four years old the first time I saw it. Of all the memories I have from that age, this is the only one that has never faded. I have forgotten the toys that filled my room and the stories my mother told me before bed, but I remember the window, the pale curtains, and the tall shadow standing beside them.
I awakened sometime during the night. The house was silent, and my room lay beneath a faint grey darkness. Moonlight passed through the curtains and fell across the floor, revealing just enough for me to recognise the wardrobe and the small chair against the wall.
Nothing appeared unusual until I looked toward the window.
A figure stood near the curtains.
It resembled a tall man, though no face or clothing could be seen. Its body was entirely black, darker than the wall and the night beyond the window. Its head almost reached the ceiling, and its arms hung beside it, too long and narrow to look natural. There was something grotesque in its shape, as though it had observed the form of a man without understanding it completely.
It stood at a distance from my bed and stared at me.
I could not see its eyes, yet I knew it was watching. The certainty came over me at once and brought with it the full terror of a nightmare, though I knew I was awake.
I tried to call for my parents, but my voice failed me. Breath entered my lungs, yet no cry passed through my throat. When I attempted to sit up, my body remained flat against the bed.
My arms would not move. Neither would my legs.
Only my eyes obeyed me, and they remained fixed upon the figure.
A faint breeze entered through the window and stirred the lower edge of the curtains. The fabric moved gently against the wall.
The shadow did not move with it.
I struggled beneath the blanket, trying to force my hands or feet to respond. The harder I fought, the more frightened I became. My body felt as though it had been placed beyond my reach, leaving me trapped inside it.
The figure remained still.
It did not approach the bed or raise its hands. It gave no sign that it intended to harm me. Somehow, that made its presence more dreadful. It seemed to require nothing from me except that I remain awake and aware of its attention.
Tears filled my eyes. I feared closing them, for I thought the figure might use that moment to cross the room. I continued staring while struggling to move, unable to tell whether I had been trapped for seconds or for much longer.
At last, one of my fingers responded.
I forced it to move again, and slowly the rest of my body began to obey me. The moment complete control returned, I sat upright, threw aside the blanket, and ran from the room without looking toward the window again.
The hallway was dark, and the floor felt bitterly cold beneath my bare feet. The chill followed me as I ran toward my parents’ room, crying and calling for them now that my voice had returned. Their door seemed much farther away than it had during the day.
I expected to hear footsteps behind me, but none came.
My mother woke when I entered the room, and my father pulled me onto their bed. I clung to him while attempting to explain what I had seen. My words came through frightened breaths, but he understood enough to know that I believed a man had been standing near my window.
I told him how tall the man was, how he had remained beside the curtains, and how I had been unable to move or call for help. I also told him that the man had done nothing except stand there and watch me.
My father listened without showing any alarm. He told me that there was no man in my room and that what I had seen was most likely the curtains. In darkness, the brain could turn ordinary shapes into frightening ones. The folds of the fabric might have formed something that resembled a head and shoulders, while the shadow beneath them created the rest of the body.
His explanation was simple, and I wanted it to be true. He was my father, and I trusted him more than I trusted what I had seen in the darkness. If he believed there had been no man in my room, then perhaps my frightened mind had deceived me.
Still, I refused to return to my own bed.
My parents allowed me to sleep between them that night. I lay close to my father, comforted by the warmth of his body and the sound of his breathing. Their room felt safe, but I could see the open doorway from where I rested.
For a long time, I watched it.
I expected the tall figure to appear in the hall, no longer willing to remain beside my curtains. Whenever the house settled or a faint sound came from another room, I held my breath and waited for its silhouette to fill the doorway.
It never came.
Eventually, I fell asleep between my parents. By morning, the terror seemed less certain. Sunlight filled the house, and my father’s explanation became easier to accept. I convinced myself that the figure had never existed outside my frightened mind.
Then I saw it again.
I awakened unable to move or cry out and found the same tall shadow watching from a distance. Once more, I struggled until complete control returned to my body.
As I grew older, it continued to appear. There was no pattern to its visits. Long periods sometimes passed without it, but I never knew when I might awaken and find it standing across the room.
Whenever it came, I remembered my father’s explanation.
It was only the curtains. It was only my mind creating a shape in the darkness.
I believed those words because I needed to.
They never made it less terrifying.
