The Shadow Collector: A Dark Short Story

Written by:

Categories:

Jacob had never been a remarkable man. A quiet, unassuming figure in a busy city, he was the kind of person who blended into the background. He worked a dead-end job, shuffled through the routine of his life, and was all but invisible to those around him. Until the night he discovered his strange, terrifying gift.

It started like this: Jacob was walking home from work, his thoughts clouded by anger. His boss had humiliated him in front of everyone again. The snickering from his co-workers echoed in his mind as he gritted his teeth. That night, his frustration reached a boiling point. But something changed.

As he walked past a narrow alley, he noticed a man hunched over, rummaging through a trash bin. The man’s shadow stretched unnaturally long under the dim streetlights, dancing along the walls. An urge, dark and inexplicable, rose in Jacob’s chest. He stopped and stared. The man’s shadow wavered, as though it could sense Jacob’s gaze, and then, with a small twitch of his fingers, Jacob felt something snap. The shadow—detached itself from the man.

Startled, Jacob watched in disbelief as the shadow peeled away like smoke, floating toward him, almost drawn by some invisible force. The man, oblivious to the phenomenon, continued digging through the trash as if nothing had happened.

Jacob caught the shadow in his hand. It felt cold, like holding a wisp of darkness. Before he could think, the shadow dissolved into his skin, vanishing. The man in the alley suddenly froze, dropping to his knees. He looked up, his eyes vacant, his expression lifeless. Jacob recoiled, stepping back, realizing that something fundamental had been taken from the man—his soul, perhaps. He didn’t know for sure, but he could feel the power thrumming inside him.

For a moment, panic gripped him. What had he done? But then…a strange sense of satisfaction washed over him. The world felt lighter, brighter even. The frustration, the humiliation he had carried all day, seemed to evaporate. He felt—stronger. Powerful.

And so it began.

At first, Jacob used his newfound ability sparingly. A rude stranger who bumped into him on the subway lost his shadow. A belligerent coworker who mocked him during lunch was left a hollow shell. He convinced himself it was justice, that these people deserved what they got. But as the days passed, the urge to steal shadows became overwhelming, and he found himself targeting more and more people for increasingly minor offenses.

Each time he took a shadow, the person was left a husk—alive, but hollow. They wandered the streets, aimless, lost, a shell of who they once were. And with each theft, Jacob grew stronger. His senses sharpened, his reflexes quickened, and his confidence swelled. He felt unstoppable. But soon, it wasn’t enough. The satisfaction he once felt started to dull, the thrill fading, like a drug losing its potency. He needed more—he needed bigger, stronger shadows.

That’s when he made his first mistake.

Jacob set his sights on Marcus, his cruel and manipulative boss. Marcus had always delighted in tormenting Jacob, belittling him in front of others, relishing his power. Jacob fantasized about the day he’d finally get his revenge. When the moment came, Jacob was ready.

He found Marcus alone in the parking garage one evening, his shadow stretched long across the asphalt. Jacob focused, the now-familiar pulse of power surging through him, and reached for Marcus’s shadow. But something was different this time. The shadow resisted.

Marcus turned, his eyes widening in fear as he felt the pull, but before he could react, his shadow began to separate. It fought, writhing as though alive, but Jacob’s power was too strong. The shadow broke away, shrieking as it was torn from its host and absorbed into Jacob’s skin. Marcus crumpled to the ground, a lifeless shell, his eyes dull, his body limp.

For the first time, Jacob felt something other than satisfaction. It was fear.

The next few days were unbearable. Jacob could feel the shadows writhing inside him. They were no longer content to sit quietly, fueling his strength. They whispered in his mind, voices creeping into his thoughts, urging him to take more, to feed them. The shadows were hungry, ravenous.

One night, unable to sleep, Jacob stood before his bathroom mirror. His reflection stared back, but it was wrong. His shadow didn’t quite move in sync with him. It twitched and jerked unnaturally, like it was trying to break free. Panic set in.

He tried to rid himself of the shadows. He visited an abandoned building on the outskirts of town, a place where no one would see him. Standing in the middle of the decaying structure, he focused, trying to force the shadows out. But the more he pushed, the more they resisted. They weren’t just a part of him now—they were him.

Suddenly, the air grew cold, and the shadows began to move on their own. They stretched and twisted, growing larger, darker. One by one, they peeled away from Jacob’s body, but instead of dissipating, they took shape, monstrous forms with glowing eyes and grotesque limbs. They surrounded him, circling, closing in.

Jacob’s breath hitched as the shadows hissed and snarled, their voices no longer whispers but deafening roars. They were angry—vengeful. He had tried to control them, to use them for his own gain, but now they wanted something in return. They wanted him.

As they closed in, Jacob felt his body grow cold. His limbs became stiff, his heartbeat slowing. The shadows slithered across his skin, wrapping around him like snakes, dragging him down, down into the darkness. He screamed, but no sound came out.

And then—everything went black.

When Jacob opened his eyes, he was no longer in the abandoned building. He stood in a world of eternal darkness, where there was no sky, no horizon—only endless black. Shadows moved all around him, their forms twisting and writhing, their eyes watching him with malice. He was no longer human. His body had dissolved into the darkness, becoming one with the shadows.

He looked down at himself, but there was nothing there—no flesh, no bone. Only a shadow, his shape shifting and flickering like the others. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t been the collector. He had never been in control. The shadows had been using him, slowly consuming him from the inside, until there was nothing left.

Jacob had become one of them.

In the distance, he saw a figure. A man, walking alone, oblivious to the dark world around him. His shadow stretched long behind him, flickering under the dim light of a streetlamp. Jacob’s body, or what was left of it, moved on its own. The hunger was unbearable. He needed to feed.

With a silent scream, he surged forward, joining the other shadows as they swarmed toward their next victim.