Are You Alone?

Have you ever felt a shiver crawl down your spine, even in the sweltering heat? There's no explanation, no draft, just a sudden coldness that sets your hairs on end. Or maybe it's a strange smell, one you can't quite place - like jasmine at your grandmother's house, but you're miles away and the windows are bolted shut. These are little moments we brush aside, too busy to ponder them.

But what if they're not so little? The flickering lights you blame on a loose bulb - what if unseen eyes cause them to dim and brighten, followed by the faintest sigh that seems to brush past your ear? The sudden jolt that wakes you from a peaceful sleep - what if it's not just a bad dream, but a presence you can't quite see, leaving an icy handprint on your chest where it pressed in the dark? Have you ever felt that prickling sensation on the back of your neck, like someone's watching you? Especially when you're alone, and you swear you can hear a faint, rhythmic tapping coming from the empty room next door?

We dismiss these things as stress, bad wiring, or overactive imaginations. But the truth might be far stranger. The veil between our world and the next might be thinner than we think. Perhaps spirits, those who have passed on, linger around us, their whispers carried on the cold drafts that snake through the house despite closed windows. Maybe they watch, curious about the lives we lead, or maybe... maybe something else stirs within those shadows, something older, colder, and far less benevolent.

Maybe, just maybe, as you're reading this sentence, a brass vase on a high shelf topples over with a loud crash. Your heart leaps into your throat. You scramble to your feet, eyes scanning the room for a clumsy cat or a rogue lizard. But there's nothing. No scurrying creature, no sign of a broken window. Just an unsettling silence that hangs heavy in the air.

A logical mind might blame a loose screw or an earthquake you barely felt. But a shiver runs down your spine as a different thought creeps in. What if it wasn't the vase that moved itself? What if something... unseen... brushed against it in its haste to flee your gaze?

Sometimes you feel like a faint sound called your name. A whisper, soft and fleeting. You come out of your room and ask your family, "Did you just call me?" They all give you confused looks and say no. You shrug it off, brushing it aside as your imagination playing tricks. But in the quiet of the night, a shiver runs down your spine. Maybe it wasn't your imagination after all.

There are also those moments you swear you switched off the light before leaving the room. But then your mom comes in later, grumbling about you leaving it on all night. You argue, 200% sure you turned it off. You ask everyone in the house, but no one admits to flipping the switch. A seed of doubt is sown. Were you wrong? Did you just forget? Or is there something else at play, something unseen toying with the light, mimicking human actions?

The next time you feel that unexplained chill, the sudden scent, or the inexplicable fall of an object, take a moment. Don't dismiss it. Consider the unseen world that might brush against ours in these strange occurrences. You might not be as alone as you think, and the company you have might be far more terrifying than solitude.