Shadows Unseen
The Zero-Day Entry
The key feels heavy in my palm. Heavier than a normal key should.
The hallway smells like ozone and old copper.
The kind of quiet that feels like someone is holding their breath right behind my ear.
Just a long stretch of grey carpet and flickering fluorescent tubes.
That’s what I wanted, isn't it?
A city where no one knows my name.
A building where neighbors are ghosts.
Landlord
Everything to your liking, then?
I didn’t hear him approach.
Mr. Han is standing three feet away, his hands folded neatly behind his back.
He’s smiling, but his eyes are flat. Like two black marbles stuck in dough.
You (Mc)
It’s fine. A bit quiet.
Landlord
Quiet is a luxury. Most people would kill for this kind of silence.
He tilts his head. He’s looking at my shadow on the wall, not at me.
Landlord
You’ve been here a long time, haven't you?
You (Mc)
I just moved in today. Ten minutes ago.
The Landlord doesn’t blink. He just nods slowly, a thin, knowing smile stretching his lips.
Landlord
Of course. My mistake. Don’t forget to lock the deadbolt. The shadows here...
Landlord
They tend to wander.
His shoes don't make a sound on the carpet.
I slide into 4C and slam the door. My heart is a frantic bird hitting the cage of my ribs.
I lean my forehead against the cool wood of the door.
I’m safe. This is my reset.
The gap at the bottom of the door. Usually, light from the hallway spills through in a thin, yellow line.
A sliver of darkness is cutting through the light.
Someone is standing out there.
Right in front of my door.
I wait for the knock. I wait for the handle to turn.
But it doesn’t walk away.
It shrinks, as if the person outside is pressing their face against the wood. Right where I am.
Tripping over a moving box.
My back hits the far wall
I look at the wall behind me.
The floor lamp is on. My shadow should be projected against the door.
On the wall, my shadow stays still. Both of its arms are down at its sides.
The Non-Existent Guest
My right hand is still raised, trembling in the air.
On the wall, my shadow remains perfectly still.
Its arms are pinned to its sides. Its head is tilted at an angle that should be impossible
—a sharp, skeletal snap to the left.
I lunged for the light switch.
Darkness swallows the room.
My heart is a drum, beating against my teeth.
I wait for the shadow to grab me,
To pull me into the drywall.
Just the hum of the refrigerator and the distant, wet sound of a pipe dripping in the walls.
I fumble for my phone. The screen light is blinding.
You (Mc)
Get it together. You’re tired. The move. The stress.
The shadow in the hallway gap is gone. The yellow sliver of light is clean again.
I can’t stay here tonight. Not like this.
The lobby is a tomb of marble and cold air.
The Security Guard is slumped in a high-backed chair behind a plexiglass shield.
He’s staring at a wall of monitors.
He doesn’t look up when I approach. He just taps a rhythmic beat on the desk with a heavy, silver ring.
You (Mc)
Excuse me? I’m from 4C.
You (Mc)
I think I saw someone lingering outside my door.
His skin looks like parchment.
His eyes are milky, almost translucent.
Security Guard
4C. You’re back early.
You (Mc)
I just got here today.
You (Mc)
I moved in three hours ago.
The silence is heavy, like a wet wool blanket.
Security Guard
If you say so. Which camera?
You (Mc)
The fourth floor. Near the elevators. Around 8:00 PM.
His fingers dancing over a greasy keyboard. The monitors flicker.
Security Guard
4th floor. 20:00 hours.
The screen shows the hallway.
The elevators open. A figure walks out.
It’s wearing my jacket. It’s carrying my duffel bag.
It stops in front of 4C, fumbles with the keys, and enters.
You (Mc)
There. That’s me.
You (Mc)
I want to see who came after that.
Security Guard
Look at the timestamp, kid.
I lean in. My breath fogs the plexiglass.
The timestamp on the footage says 14:00. Two o'clock in the afternoon.
You (Mc)
No. That’s wrong. I was still at the rental car agency at 2:00 PM.
You (Mc)
I have the receipts.
Security Guard
Then who is that?
On the screen, the figure in my jacket stops halfway into the room.
It turns back toward the camera.
It doesn’t have a face.
It’s just a smooth, blurred surface of flesh.
No eyes.
No mouth.
Just a blank, beige mask.
It looks directly at the lens. Then, it raises its right hand—the same hand I raised in my room—and waves.
My heels click too loudly on the marble.
You (Mc)
Rewind it. Rewind it to this morning.
You (Mc)
I want to see myself actually entering the building for the first time.
The guard’s typing becomes frantic.
The screen cuts to static.
Security Guard
That’s the end of the reel.
Security Guard
There is no footage of you moving in today.
Security Guard
Or yesterday.
He looks at me, his milky eyes widening.
Security Guard
I don’t see you on the lobby cameras right now, either.
I look down at my own feet.
I can feel the floor.
I can feel my pulse.
You (Mc)
I'm standing right in front of you!
The guard isn’t looking at me anymore. He’s looking through me.
Security Guard
Central? We’ve got another glitch in the lobby.
Security Guard
Static interference.
Security Guard
Send the Landlord down. The 4C unit is… leaking again.
I turn to run for the exit,
But the glass doors are gone.
There is only a smooth, white wall where the street should be.
The Gutter Between Realities
My palms slap against the surface.
But the cold of a morgue slab.
You (Mc)
Open the door! Let me out!
But my voice sounds thin, like it’s being played through a broken radio.
The Security Guard doesn’t even flinch.
He’s adjusting the dials on his monitor,
His face bathed in the sickly blue light of the static.
Security Guard
Signal’s getting worse.
Security Guard
4C is losing its transparency.
He says it like he’s talking about a leaky faucet.
The hallway leading to the elevators looks miles long now,
The perspective warping like a funhouse mirror.
It's a jagged thought, shivering at the base of my skull.
I bolt toward the stairs.
I don’t take the elevator.
I can’t risk being trapped in a metal box with whatever is “leaking.”
My boots thud against the concrete steps.
I stop at the landing of the fourth floor.
I’m gasping for air, but my lungs feel empty.
Like I’m breathing vacuum.
I look at the door to 4B.
A shadow is bleeding out from under the crack.
It’s not moving toward me. It’s stretching toward my own door—4C.
Neighbor 4B
(Whispering) Don't look at the floor.
The voice is like dry leaves skittering on pavement.
The door to 4B is closed, but the voice is right next to my ear.
You (Mc)
Who are you? What is happening to this building?
Neighbor 4B
You’re fading.
Neighbor 4B
The Landlord...
Neighbor 4B
He likes his tenants ‘clean.’
Neighbor 4B
But you brought a memory with you.
Neighbor 4B
You weren’t supposed to remember the rental car.
You (Mc)
I don’t understand. I just moved in!
Neighbor 4B
You didn't move in.
Neighbor 4B
You were printed.
Neighbor 4B
If the Landlord catches you while you’re ‘glitching,’ he’ll hit Delete.
I stumble toward my door.
My hands are shaking so hard I drop the keys.
They don’t hit the floor.
They fall through the carpet.
They vanish into the grey fabric as if it were water
My fingers sink in.
The floor feels like wet sand.
I’m losing my grip on the physical world.
The door to 4C swings open.
I am standing in the doorway.
The one from the security footage. The one with the blank, featureless face.
It’s wearing my favorite sweater. It’s holding a mug of coffee
The steam rises in a perfect, mocking spiral.
It leans against the doorframe, watching me sink into the floor.
Its voice is a perfect, terrifying carbon copy of mine.
Other You
You’re late for dinner.
Other You
I already ate your portion.
The Landlord’s footsteps echo from the end of the hall.
Landlord
(Distantly) There it is.
Landlord
The smudge on the canvas.
The blank-faced version of me reaches out a hand.
It reaches for my throat.
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