Pick a Word, Paint a Story #23

Hello everyone, this time I want to participate in a contest organized by @senehasa on "Choose a Word, Paint a Story #23." Following up on my previous post, I'd like to invite my friends @neyistar23, @sur-riti, and @xkool24 to participate in this contest.

a man who is familiarly called Shadow. No one knows his real name, even his existence is like a myth circulating among dark alleys and dimly lit streets.

Shadow is not an ordinary human. He has no shadow, and that's the irony. Although nicknamed Shadow—shadow—he actually has no shadow at all. Many say he is cursed, some say he is not from this world.

That night, his target was a woman named Mira. It was a very foggy night in the city that night. The street lights were pale and intermittent, looking as if they'd rather not show the way. At the end of the dark passage, upon the wet stones, footsteps were heard falling quietly. He is not a thief, not a killer. There’s only one thing that brings him: to hunt shadows.

Yes, Shadow lives from other people's shadows.

According to the growing legend, every human has a shadow that holds their dark side. Revenge, anger, guilt, even fear. And Shadow is the hunter of those shadows. He absorbs them, stores them in himself, makes them a strength to survive.

But there is a price to pay.

Every time Shadow takes someone's shadow, that person slowly loses their soul. At first they seem ordinary, just a little confused. But over time, they become empty, heartless, like a doll that only moves because of routine.

Mira is happy-go-lucky, but she's also got some deep scars. In his childhood he was the victim of his parents’ car accident, ever since who he has been possessing guilty complex.

He mounted the apartment stairs slowly. He made no noise on the ground with each step as though he was not actually in contact with the ground. Until, at last, he was outside Mira's door.

Shadow fell silent. This was the first time someone had waited for him without fear.

"Take it. I'm tired of carrying everything," Mira continued.

The shadows around him began to thicken, dancing wildly like black smoke. Shadow reached out, touching the shadow. Instantly, a chill enveloped the room, and Mira's shadow began to slowly be absorbed.

But there was something different.

When Shadow pulled the shadow away, an incredible pain shot through his chest. Mira's shadow was not just guilt. There was light in it—a warm, sincere, and loving light.

That night, for the first time, the shadows in the city disappeared. Shadow was gone. And Mira, the fearless woman, remained sitting on the chair, staring calmly at the slowly changing world.

Because not all shadows should be feared.

Sometimes, they just need to be saved.