✨ Introduction to the Reader:
This short story was originally written and published in February 2023, during a season of deep reflection and spiritual awakening for me. At the time, I was wrestling with the weight of discernment—the ache of seeing too much, knowing too much, and often feeling isolated by it. That’s when Emma came to life.
Emma is a fictional character, but her emotions, her observations, her strange sense of knowing—those are very real to me. She represents that part of us that feels everything, that sees beyond the surface, that can’t quite pretend everything is okay when it’s not. Writing her story gave me a way to process the spiritual sensitivity I’ve often felt in my own life. Some call it intuition. Some call it discernment. Emma calls it her burden and her gift.
As I revisit her story today, I find it even more relevant. We live in a world full of spiritual noise—where deception can dress itself up as kindness, and danger can wear a charming smile. That’s what led me to research ancient myths and biblical parallels. I wanted to understand the forces Emma sensed—the ones I sometimes sense too.
Here’s a brief look at the creatures woven into Emma’s world:
🌀 Changeling – In European folklore, a changeling is a fairy child left in place of a human baby, often sickly or strange. The concept evolved into the idea of something foreign wearing a familiar face—a being that doesn’t belong, hiding in plain sight.
🪞 Narcissus – Named from Greek mythology, Narcissus was a man so obsessed with his own reflection that he wasted away staring at it. In today’s language, we use “Narcissist” to describe someone driven by ego, manipulation, and a lack of empathy. In Emma’s world, Narcissus are spiritual parasites—masked monsters feeding on admiration and control.
🕷️ Shapeshifter – Present in many cultures, shapeshifters are beings that can transform their appearance. But spiritually, they are deceivers—those who change their persona to manipulate, seduce, or destroy. The most dangerous ones? You never see them coming.
I wrote this story to explore those unseen spiritual battles that play out quietly in our daily lives. It’s not just fantasy—it’s a metaphor for the very real warfare we face: emotional, spiritual, and internal. And like Emma, we’re often called to walk alone, armed with faith, discernment, and the quiet courage to see what others refuse to see.
I’m sharing this again now because I believe someone needs to hear it. To feel seen in their loneliness. To recognize that strange “knowing” inside them isn’t something to hide—it may be a calling.
Sit with this story. Feel the tension. Let it speak to the part of you that just knows.
Skelly-
Emma the Knower
She didn’t choose this life. But she was made for it.
Emma sat down for another long day and whispered to herself, “Today will be a good day.”
It was a mantra she used often, not out of optimism, but survival. The world expected so much from her, and she often feared she wasn’t enough. Not qualified enough. Not strong enough. Not “normal” enough. She wore many hats—some by choice, most by necessity—and the weight of those roles often felt unbearable. But what set Emma apart wasn’t her strength.
It was her knowing.
She could sense things—feel people’s intentions before they spoke a word. Hear the truth behind a lie. Smell deceit before it entered the room. She saw darkness where others saw charm, and she knew—without evidence, without proof—what was real and what was not.
It hadn’t always been this way.
Emma’s gifts were born from fire. She had walked through unspeakable pain—places and people she never wanted to think about again. The scars she carried weren’t visible, but they burned all the same. And yet, it was through those darkest chapters that her power emerged.
To be made new, she had once heard. At the time, it meant nothing. But now, it was everything.
To be made new meant being broken down to your barest self. Melted. Molded. Reforged. And in that process, Emma had been given sight—not of the eyes, but of the spirit. And sometimes, she hated it.
For months now, Emma had been working on trusting that gift. Her new job gave her a flicker of hope. She felt confident, even proud. She could finally pay her bills, and in a small way, that gave her dignity again. The work was steady. Her skills—especially her ability to read people—gave her an edge others couldn’t compete with.
But even on the best days, doubt followed her like a shadow. That whisper in her mind reminded her that she’d always be the odd one out. Always the girl with the strange intuition. The one who knows things but can’t explain why. It haunted her dreams.
Still, Emma clung to what she did know: that she was different, yes—but divinely chosen. Not broken. Not cursed. Set apart.
But it came at a cost.
Emma rarely left her house outside of work. Her circle was painfully small—just two close friends, Jordan and Liz, and her loyal dog, Lewis, a dusty little mutt she had found abandoned three years earlier. Emma had saved Lewis, but in many ways, Lewis saved her too.
They lived in quiet harmony—reading, walking, and researching. Lewis kept their home safe during the day while Emma worked. At night, they curled up together as Emma lit a single candle, opened her journal, and waited for the stillness to speak.
And it always did.
Sometimes, it came in a whisper. Sometimes in color or sensation. But always in truth. The presence of peace would settle in, and Emma would cry—not out of sadness, but from being seen, held, known.
She didn’t always understand the voice that spoke to her. But she trusted it. Trusted God’s hand in it, even when the burden felt too heavy to carry.
Still, there were days she wished for ignorance. For the freedom to believe a lie. To walk into a room and assume everyone liked her. To hear a compliment and not sense the manipulation beneath it. Most people lived that way—blissfully unaware, lost in their phones, muttering to themselves in a daze. They weren’t joyful, not really, but they didn’t see what Emma saw. And that kind of blindness? It almost looked like peace.
But peace for Emma came differently. It came in silence. In solitude. In stillness. And in truth.
Until one day…
Emma walked into the office and immediately felt it. A strange frequency clung to her skin. It raised the hair on her arms. She shook it off and smiled politely at her coworkers, determined to push past it.
She knew what it was—energy. A signal. A warning. But she had work to do.
She’d sensed something odd about her new co-worker before. The pushiness. The strange noises behind closed doors. The need to control, to test, to provoke. Once, they’d asked her to stay exactly seven minutes longer than necessary. No reason. Just… control.
Emma complied, unsure what it meant. But she took note.
Over time, other things started happening—small manipulations, unnatural outbursts, tension in the atmosphere. The smell of something off began to grow stronger.
Until it hit her like a brick wall.
That day, Emma sat at her desk, typing away, when a foul stench—hot garbage and rot—swept through the air. Her eyes lifted toward the source. Her co-worker’s face peeked just over the top of their computer monitor.
But it wasn’t their face.
What Emma saw stole the breath from her lungs.
A gray, melting mass of blistered flesh. Solid black sockets where eyes should be. A stretched grin that split from ear to ear. No humanity remained. Just a slithering, grotesque form of deception. A monster wearing skin.
Emma gasped and fell to the floor.
Coworkers rushed over. She laughed it off, blaming her chair. But she knew better.
That thing—that was a Changeling. A shapeshifter.
Not just a low-level deceiver. This one was ancient. Polished. Perfected in its craft.
Emma had met others like it before. She called them Narcissus—soulless ego-driven demons disguised as people. Manipulative. Charming. Deadly. But this… this was worse. A master shapeshifter. The kind that makes you doubt yourself. Gaslights you into silence. Makes everyone else fall in love with them while they quietly destroy your life.
And now, one worked beside her.
It hadn’t revealed itself easily. That meant it was skilled. Dangerous. Maybe even one of the originals.
Emma didn’t panic. Not outwardly. But inside, the war had begun.
She’d research. She’d pray. She’d prepare. Because this wasn’t just another toxic person to avoid.
This was a spiritual assassin.
SK-
Photo courtesy of https://pin.it/B75yhLU
- Confusion: The Chaos Strategist
- 5 Bible Verses to Remember: Gratitude, Forgiveness, Worthiness, Grace, and Peace
- Fixing the Hinges on the Gate | by fabricthatmademe
- Switching Off Survival Mode
- It’s Not That Deep…Or is it?
Leave a Reply