“Those who've left us aren't absent, they're invisible, they keep their eyes full of glory fixed in ours full of tears.” — Saint Augustine.

Markus walked down the main street with firm steps, his eyes scanning the surroundings like those of a predator on watch.

To anyone else, the landscape around him would have been nothing more than a common urban routine, but he could not ignore the strange sensation that accompanied him.

It was as if something – or someone – was watching him from the shadows, a persistent gaze that bored its presence into his skin. This unsettling perception was nothing new; it had haunted him since childhood.

Since he was a child, Markus had perceived what others could not. He felt the invisible weight of the supernatural around him, like inaudible murmurs trapped between worlds. Over time, he had learned to stifle these perceptions, to blend into the ordinary and hide the gift that, for him, was both a burden and a secret.

But now, something was different. The presence surrounding him was incomparable to any other he had ever felt. It was everywhere – in his apartment, at work, at the grocery store. Invisible but constant, it seemed glued to his very existence.

It was an overwhelming, almost suffocating sensation. It wasn’t just a passing ghost or a lost shadow; it was something more intense, more palpable. Markus could feel the weight of a fixed gaze, as if an incomprehensible force was probing his every thought.

He tried to resist it, to pretend that everything was normal. But as the days passed, the presence became unbearable. Always lurking, keeping its distance, but never disappearing. An indistinct, persistent shadow, watching but never revealing its intentions.

What could it be? A spirit seeking redemption? A supernatural predator with dark intentions? The uncertainty was a slow poison, eating away at his sanity.

That night, as he sank into the couch with an action movie echoing through the living room, Markus heard something. A discreet noise coming from upstairs, something that shouldn’t be there. He turned up the volume on the TV, trying to drown out the uneasiness of the sound of gunfire and explosions. But the noise continued.

It was almost a tangible whisper, insistent, as if reminding him that he was being watched. His heart raced. He could no longer ignore it.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to gather his courage. Each step toward the stairs felt heavier than the last. The house was plunged into an oppressive silence, broken only by the muffled sound of the TV in the distance.

Markus hesitated for a moment at the foot of the stairs. Then he climbed them, each step a journey into the unknown, each beat of his heart a reminder that he was about to face what was haunting him.