What The Shadows Know--A Shadow's Mark, Pt.2 Ep. 12
Clean Supernatural Suspense Thriller
The hair on Beth’s arm tingled as she asked, “What is it?”
“Death,” the woman said casually.
“Are you sure?” Beth asked, an icy finger of fear sliding down her spine. The candle’s flame danced erratically, painting the walls with ghostly shapes that seemed to writhe with a life of their own.
“Right there. Your lifeline is cut short.”
Beth looked at her palm. She saw a line split in two, but it made no sense to her. The creases looked like large wrinkles, nothing more.
“How long?” Beth asked, dreading what the answer might be.
“Hard to say. Avoid a blue four-door,” the palm reader said, as if that helped, keeping her eyes on Beth’s hands.
“But I already drive one.”
Ignoring her response, the woman continued to grip her hands, looking from one to the other. “I’ve never seen a lifeline do that, on both hands.”
The reader’s head snapped up, her eyes wide as if she’d suddenly witnessed something else entirely.
She stared at Beth, her gaze penetrating, searching.
“This is….special.”
Beth remembered Mr. Banks, who had visited her class when she was young, had claimed she was one of the “specials” described in his books on E.S.P. Yet, most days, an emptiness echoed within her like a hollow cavern. Or anxiety twisted her thoughts into painful knots.
Mr. Banks and River had called it ”her power”. Other books that she’d read called it listening to the “universe”, “manifesting”, or a “spirit-guide”.
Whatever it was, it hadn’t felt like her power.
Definitely not.
Not anymore, anyway.
The palm reader held tight to her hands. “Perhaps not death,” she said, deep in thought. “Could be a mark.”
“Like a birthmark?” Beth whispered, her voice cracking as the flame cast long, distorted shapes that began to twirl. Shadows slithered on the peeling wallpaper like grasping claws, surrounding the table in a sinister dance.
With a violent recoil, the palm reader snatched back her hands, as if a powerful electric shock had jolted her. The wooden legs of her chair screeched in a raw, piercing wail as she yanked it backward across the floorboards.
Jumping up, she announced, “The session is over.”
“Wait, that’s all?” Beth asked, still seated. Still needing answers, not ready to leave.
The palm reader bolted toward the velvet doorway, then paused and said over her shoulder, “A man will enter your life. He’ll move in soon after you meet.” With that, she yanked the curtain aside and vanished.
In the profound quiet, Beth heard the distinct ticking of a clock. She hadn’t noticed it before. But now, the sound surged into a relentless tidal wave, a deafening roar in her ears.
Mocking.
Reminding her of time.
Beth squeezed her eyes shut—her breathing erratic.
She needed to leave.
Her mind still stunned, she slowly raised her eyes from where she sat. In the corner of the room, she noticed a misshapen darkness, the grotesque shape of a gaping-mouthed shadow. Its soulless eyes fixed on her.
Beth’s throat tightened as a desperate, silent plea died on her lips.
She sensed it wanted to speak.
To say something to her.
She had first laid eyes on it when it murmured to her father and sister, ages ago.
Beth scrambled to her feet, a strangled cry escaping as the chair crashed to the floor, elevating her mounting panic. Without a backward glance, she dashed through the beaded velvet “door”, thankful she’d paid in advance.
Outside, she welcomed the daylight with a raw, jagged breath, almost tripping on the top step of the porch. Grabbing the railing, she steadied herself before she half-ran, half-stumbled the rest of the way to her car.
She leaped inside, the click of the locks causing relief as she secured them.
Looking at her palms, her gaze darted back and forth between them. Scrutinizing the lines and creases.
Did she hold death in her hands?
A curse?
Had she been marked at birth?
Beth didn’t know where to drive. She zoomed off, completely unaware of her surroundings. Lost in thought, she paid little attention to the vehicles that zipped past. The bright, zesty scent of a lemon-pine air freshener, coupled with the smooth steering wheel under her fingers, only heightened the fact that she was driving a blue, four-door car.
The exact one the palm reader had warned about.
Copyright (C) 2026 T.H. Meyer, Author. All rights reserved.
What the Shadows Know Blurb—Beth Cane’s glass-house life sits on the shifting sands of New Age promises and unhealed echoes of a traumatic childhood. After being haunted by creeping shadows and disturbing visions, she accepts that she was marked at birth—cursed. But when she encounters a cryptic stranger, his riddles penetrate through the heavy veil of darkness and confusion.
In a world of magic and self-help, the brightest light reveals the blackest shadow once a possessed stalker starts hunting Beth and her family. Hell’s fury appears in both the flesh and the unseen realm, where trust is blurred, and deception is a matter of life or death. In an epic showdown to escape the entities seeking to destroy her, Beth must embrace a mysterious and ancient truth. One that will shatter everything she’s ever known.
Watch Beth’s slow burn from fringe to faith—terrorized to triumph—haunted to healed. For fans of novels by Frank Peretti and Ted Dekker. Expect a bumpy but redemptive ride—eventually.
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