The Darkness That Called Itself Love | Short Mystery Story 

The first time I heard the voice, it wasn’t from the outside.

It came from the stillness of my own chest—like a whisper threading through my ribs.

"I am love," it said.

But nothing about it felt holy.

---

Shadows in the Night

The house was quiet. Only the faint flicker of the Sabbath candles lingered in the darkness, the wax burning down to the silver holders. I thought I was alone.

Then the air grew heavy, as though the walls themselves were breathing.

"I am love," the voice repeated.

I froze. My heart pounded so loud I feared it would give me away.

"Who are you?" I whispered into the stillness.

Silence.

But then, a gust rattled the window shutters though no wind blew. A chill ran through me. I reached for the Tanakh lying open on the table. My eyes fell on the words of the prophet:

> “Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness.” (Isaiah 5:20)

A sick realization crept over me. Whatever spoke was not love—it only wore its mask.

---

The Stranger

The next day, as I walked through the marketplace, a man brushed past me. He was tall, his eyes dark and piercing. He leaned close and whispered words that turned my blood cold:

"Did you sleep well after hearing me last night?"

I stumbled back.

"Who are you?!"

But he only smiled and melted into the crowd before I could stop him.

My mind spun. How could he have known? How could anyone?

That night, the voice came again. Stronger. Closer.

"I am love. You cannot run from me."

My trembling hand turned the pages until I reached Yeshua’s words:

> “Take heed that no man deceive you. For many shall come in My name, saying, I am Messiah, and shall deceive many.” (Matthew 24:4–5)

This wasn’t love. This wasn’t the Spirit of Adonai.

This was something else. Something ancient. Something hunting me.

---

The Dream

On the third night, I dreamed.

I stood at the edge of the Kidron Valley. The sky was black, the moon hidden. A figure cloaked in shadow reached out its hand to me.

"Do not fear," it said softly. "I am the love you’ve always searched for. I will give you belonging, power, and rest for your weary soul."

Its hand glowed faintly, like embers in ash. I nearly reached for it, but a thunderous voice shattered the dream:

> “The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” (Psalm 27:1)

I awoke drenched in sweat, gasping for breath.

---

The Encounter

I went to the synagogue seeking counsel. The rabbi listened but his eyes darted nervously. He leaned in close.

"Do not speak of this again. Some things are better left unchallenged."

I couldn’t believe his words. He was afraid.

As I walked out, the same tall stranger from the market stood waiting by the gates.

"Why do you resist me?" he asked, his voice smooth as honey.

"I only want to love you."

I backed away.

"Your love is darkness," I said, though my voice shook.

For the first time, his smile faltered. His eyes flashed with something fierce.

"You dare call me darkness? Then let darkness show its face."

The ground beneath my feet trembled. A cold wind howled through the street, and though people stood nearby, not one of them moved—not one even noticed. Time itself seemed frozen.

---

The Test

I cried out, “Shema Yisrael! Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad!”

The words rang in the air, striking him like blows. He staggered back, his face twisting with rage.

But he recovered quickly.

"You think the Name will save you? Even demons believe—and tremble."

He stepped closer. My back pressed against the stone wall. I could smell smoke on his breath.

"You cannot escape me. For I am the shadow written into your story. I am the love your heart cannot refuse."

I raised the Scriptures high, my voice breaking:

> “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:5)

For a moment—just a moment—his form flickered like a flame in the wind.

And then… he laughed.

"You are not ready. But soon you will be mine."

He vanished.

---

The Cliffhanger

Now the voice follows me everywhere—whether in the silence of prayer, the stillness of night, or the press of the crowd.

It waits.

It tempts.

It calls itself love.

But I know better.

Or do I?

Because last night…

I heard it speak not as a whisper, but in the voice of someone I once loved and lost.

And this time—

I almost believed it.