The Boy Without a Shadow

There was once a boy who had no shadow.

When he stood in the sun, nothing followed him. Trees had shadows. People had shadows. Even small stones had dark shapes on the ground.

The boy did not.

As a child, he often looked down while walking, waiting for something to appear. But the ground stayed empty. He felt as if a part of him was always a step behind, never arriving.

People noticed.

“You are different,” they said.

In school, children laughed and pointed. They pulled him under bright lights.

“See,” they said, “he is missing something.”

The boy said nothing. He learned that silence hurt less than answers.

Doctors and scientists studied him when he grew older. They checked everything carefully. His body was healthy. His mind was sharp.

“There is nothing wrong,” they said.

Yet something was still missing.

The boy grew up feeling unseen, even when people looked directly at him. He learned to stand quietly in crowds. He felt lighter when no one watched him, heavier when they did.

Sometimes he wondered if he existed only because others said he did.

The Night of the Lamp

One night, the power went out. The road was dark and quiet. When the streetlights came back on, one lamp stayed bright while the others flickered.

The boy walked beneath it.

Something dark appeared on the ground.

He stopped.

The darkness did not.

It moved slowly toward him.

He felt no fear—only a strange calm, like meeting an old friend he had never seen.

“I have walked behind you for a long time,” the shadow said.

“But you never looked back.”

The boy asked softly, “Why did you never follow me?”

The shadow replied, “You were walking where you did not belong.”

Between Worlds

The shadow spoke of another place. A place without light or darkness, where no one was measured, laughed at, or studied.

“In that world,” the shadow said, “no one asks if you are complete.”

The boy looked at the empty road, the quiet houses, the lamp above him.

“So what am I?” he asked.

The shadow answered, “You are what happens when the world forgets that not everything fits.”

The Step

The shadow told him he could return. There would be no sound, no sign. Just one step.

The boy thought of all the times he tried to belong. All the times he stood still, hoping to be accepted.

He looked at the shadow and felt something settle inside him—like weight returning.

He stepped forward.

The lamp flickered.

And the road was empty.

Afterward

After that night, people noticed something strange.

Shadows stretched longer in the evening, as if unwilling to leave. Some paused for a moment before following their owners. Others seemed to move slower, like they were thinking.

People began to look down more often while walking.

Sometimes they felt out of place for no clear reason. Not sad. Not afraid. Just unsure.

And when this happened, they walked a little slower.

As if listening to something behind them.