The town didn’t look different the next morning. That was the worst part. People still opened their shops. Buses still stopped at the same corners. Someone was still selling tea near the road. But everything felt slower.
Not quiet.
Not empty.
Just slower.
Like the air itself was tired.
I walked through the market without buying anything. The smells were there. The noise was there. But the feeling was gone.
Near the vegetable stalls, one of the tall shapes stood quietly.
Not blocking anyone.
Not moving.
People walked through its shadow like it was nothing.
My body reacted anyway. My chest felt tight. My head felt full.
I didn’t stop walking.
At home, my mother sat in front of the TV. The news played in the background. They talked about strange shadows near tall buildings. About cracks appearing in old walls. About people feeling sick for no clear reason.
My mother didn’t look worried. She just looked tired.
That night, I heard scratching again. Not on the wall this time. On the ground.
Slow.
Careful.
Like something testing the surface.
I stayed on my bed and stared at the ceiling. The sound moved around the house. Then it stopped.
In the morning, there were no marks.
No cracks.
No lines.
No damage.
But a drawing was there. It showed the street in front of our house. Tall shapes stood near every corner. Not touching anything.
Just watching.
There were no words.
Later that day, I walked to the old bridge near the river. The railing was still broken. The water still moved slowly.
One of the tall shapes stood near the edge. It didn’t look at me. It looked at the water. Like it was waiting for something to rise.
I stood there for a long time. My head started hurting. Not sharp pain. Just pressure. Like something was pushing from the inside.
That night, the dreams came back. Not about doors. Not about shadows.
About space.
Empty rooms.
Wide halls.
No walls.
No ceiling.
Just endless open areas.
Waiting.
When I woke up, my chest felt heavy. The room felt smaller.
Not in size.
In feeling.
At school, some classrooms were locked. No explanation. No notice.
Arun’s desk was still empty. The sketchbook was gone now. No drawings. No warmth. Just an empty table.
Outside, the sky looked normal. But the shadows on the ground felt deeper. Like they were getting thicker.
In the afternoon, I saw something new.
Two tall shapes stood close together near the main road.
They didn’t touch. They didn’t move. But the space between them felt wrong. Like the air there was being stretched.
People walked through it. Some slowed down. Some looked dizzy. No one stopped.
That night, the house felt heavier.
The walls felt closer. The ceiling felt lower. Not physically. Just in my head.
I stood in my room and stared at the empty wall.
No drawings.
No marks.
Just blank space.
But the air felt used again. Like something had already passed through. I didn’t hear anything.
No whispers.
No footsteps.
Just pressure.
In the morning, my mother said she felt tired.
Not sick.
Just tired.
Her voice sounded flat. The town felt flatter too. Less noise. Less movement.
The tall shapes were still there. More than before.
Near roads.
Behind shops.
Beside schools.
Not attacking.
Not chasing.
Just standing.
Waiting.
I walked through the center of town alone. The buildings felt closer together. The sky felt lower. The air felt stretched thin. Like it was holding something heavy.
Near the police station, three shapes stood in a line. Not blocking the entrance. Not guarding it. Just existing there. People went in and out without noticing.
I stopped for a moment.
The shapes slowly turned their heads toward me. Not all at once. One by one.
My chest tightened.
My hands felt cold.
But I didn’t move.
After a few seconds, they turned back. Like I was no longer interesting.
That night, I heard the scratching again. This time inside the house.
Not loud.
Not violent.
Just slow. Like something dragging itself across the floor.
I stayed still.
The sound passed my door. Then it faded.
In the morning, there were no marks. But another drawing was on the wall. This one showed the city center. Tall shapes everywhere.
Between buildings.
On rooftops.
Near the roads.
The darker pressure was bigger now.
Closer.
The city looked smaller in the picture.
That day, people started leaving. Cars were packed with bags. Doors were locked. Windows were shut. Nobody said goodbye.
They just left.
The tall shapes didn’t move. They didn’t follow. They just watched.
At night, the sky felt heavier than the ground. The stars looked dim. Like the darkness was thickening.
I stood by the window again. The road was quiet. But the shadows were not.
One by one, the tall shapes turned toward the houses.
Not just mine.
All of them.
They didn’t move forward. They didn’t need to. The space already felt different.
My head hurt.
My chest felt tight.
But I didn’t look away.
Something wasn’t waiting anymore. It was settling in.
And the town could feel it.
