Alice and Her Shadow
It is not a moonless night, nor is the moon full. It is not a half moon, which can be argued is more symbolic than either. It is not even a crescent, which can be meaningful enough for the magical practitioner on a budget. It is a waxing gibbous. Bulging. Grotesque. And hanging too low in the sky like the misshapen eye of a cosmic horror that has taken an unusual interest in humanity.

You still believe this, but you’ve since developed other concerns.
None of the streetlamps are working and your shadow is beginning to worry you.
You are particularly worried that it may not belong to
you.
It is stretched out in front of you and you don’t remember it looking like that.
Your mother has told you that you’re going through a late growth spurt, which is apparently why you keep walking into doorframes.

It does not account for your shadow’s head.
Your shadow’s head is freakishly large, weirdly distended, and there are two bumps emerging from the top of it.
You try not to speculate about the bumps.
You move your arm. Your shadow moves its arm, maybe a fraction of a second later.
You shiver and fold your arms in front of yourself. Maybe it’s just the way you moved, but your shadow seems to swell.
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Loved this story!!
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