Everyone in my village warned me never to walk past the old banyan tree after midnight. They said it whispered the names of those who would never return. I laughed at the stories until one stormy night.
As I hurried home, the wind suddenly stopped. The silence was terrifying. Then I heard a soft voice from the tree.
"Daniel..."
I froze. No one was there.
The voice came again, louder this time.
"Daniel... come closer."
My feet began moving on their own. When I reached the tree, I looked down and gasped. My shadow had disappeared, even though the moonlight was shining brightly.
The branches twisted like giant hands, and hundreds of glowing eyes opened among the leaves. A cold whisper filled the air.
"Your shadow belongs to us now."
I ran without looking back. Every step felt heavier, as if something invisible was chasing me.
The next morning, I returned with the village priest. The tree stood silently, but my shadow was still missing.
The priest whispered that anyone who loses their shadow to the banyan tree slowly fades from the world.
Even today, mirrors never show my reflection completely. And every midnight, I still hear the tree calling my name.
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