The Shadows of Hackton

The birds didn’t go south for the winter. That was the first sign of trouble. Henry could feel something different in the air on that red and hazy afternoon when it was first brought to his attention. He was making his rounds in the fields, as he was hired to do, when he noticed a few of the workers had stopped for a break that was lasting longer than regulation allowed. Henry thought maybe they were just testing him, the new guy in charge. As he approached the group, he noticed genuine concern on the men’s faces. Grimsy, the oldest of the field workers, had his furrowed, sun-leathered face turned up to the sky.

“Ain’t natural,” Grimsy said to the others, “The birds is usually gone by the time the fields is this picked-over. Somethin’ ain’t right.”

“Well whaddya think it could be, Grims?” Wilson, one of the younger workers, asked the old-timer.

“Can’t say yet,” Grimsy remarked. “In my seventy-eight years, I ain’t never seen skippers fly like that, all willy-nilly round the sky. They’s always got a direction, and they’s always fly in a group.”

“Yeah, you’re right Grimsy. I don’t like this one bit,” Ethan, another worker, added.

Henry weighed his options. It was his responsibility to make sure productivity was up; that’s why the corporation had sent him to that godforsaken town in the first place. It was common knowledge that the townsfolk in Hackton could be a bit of a superstitious lot. Henry had just arrived in town a few months prior and wasn’t familiar with skippers at all, let alone their migratory patterns. They didn’t have skippers in the Capitol, and normally he wouldn’t have cared. But something in Grimsy’s voice made him think maybe he should care that these birds were still there when winter was being carried in on the wind’s heels. Henry instructed the men to get back to work; he couldn’t afford rumors to be spreading around and frightening the workers.

The following week, Henry and his wife, Anna, were at home eating breakfast with their girls, Lottie and Nella. Lottie was 8 years old, with auburn hair, plenty of freckles, and an inventive spirit. Nella was proud to tell everyone she had just turned 6. She had spirals of golden curls down the middle of her back.

“You’ve really outdone yourself with this meal, Anna. We haven’t had flapjacks since we got here,” Henry said to his wife.

“Just trying to pretend we’re back home and not here in Hackton,” Anna replied. She was a straightforward woman, a trait that Henry usually adored.

“Honey, you know I couldn’t pass up this assignment. I don’t like Hackton anymore than you do,” Henry said.

“I don’t want to have this conversation again right now, let’s just enjoy our meal,” Anna replied.

Nella shrieked with excitement, pointing at the window.

“Mommy, Daddy, look at that pretty blue bird outside the window!”

The family watched as the bird continued to quickly flap its wings just outside the glass pane while staying in the same position, like treading water in a lake to stay afloat.

“Daddy, why is it flying like that? It isn’t going anywhere,” Lottie asked.

“I don’t know hon,” Henry answered honestly. “I’ve never seen a bird do that before.” 

In a hushed voice, Anna added, “I have the odd feeling that it’s almost… watching us.”

Then it charged head-first into the window.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four times it rammed its delicate skull into the glass until it shot right through and landed the kitchen table, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. The girls were screaming and had gotten up from their chairs to stand behind their parents. The poor little thing just laid there between the bowls of porridge; blue feathers were soaked to red. Henry covered the bird’s corpse with his napkin. Anna rushed a crying Nella from the kitchen.

“Why in the world would it do something like that, dad?” Lottie asked.

“I don’t know Lottie,” Henry stared down at the napkin. “I just don’t know.”

Later that day, Henry took the bird corpse to the sheriff’s office. They didn’t seem too concerned about it, so he took it to Dr. Jeffries, the only doctor in town. Henry explained the animal’s peculiar behavior, and the doctor asked plenty of questions to make sure he had the story straight.

“What strange timing you should bring this to me today,” Dr. Jeffries said. “I just treated a young boy yesterday whose 10-year-old dog bit his leg out of nowhere. I examined the dog and found it to be in good health.”

“Huh, that is odd,” Henry replied. “The other day, out the in field, Grimsy remarked on the skippers’ behavior as well. He said they’re usually not here this time of year, and that their flying patterns were different.”

“I see,” Dr. Jeffries said, rubbing his chin and furrowing his brow. “I think perhaps it’s best if we go to the governor about all of this. I know you already tried the sheriff, but he’s a bit of a foolhardy man.”  

The following week the governor held a town meeting, which was the result of a lot of convincing from Henry and Dr. Jeffries’. Following the true fashion of Hackton, it was a very hodge-podge and unofficial affair. As the people filed in and took their seats, Henry heard the chatter and anxiety grow louder and louder. Finally, the governor slammed on the gavel at the podium at the front of the room and called an unexpecting Henry and Dr. Jeffries to the front.

“What do you expect us to do?” Henry asked as he and the doctor approached the podium.

“Share with the people what you shared with me. Y’all are the ones who insisted on having this meeting,” the governor retorted.

Henry and Dr. Jeffries took turns explaining what they had seen and experiences. Grimsy stood up in the crowd and explained his concern with the skippers. Then random townspeople were standing and raising their hands and shouting out anything related to animals they could think of -- that their pig wasn’t eating as much as he usually does, or their horse was acting skittish.

Henry banged the gavel down and the crowd hushed. “People! There must be some order here. We can’t understand any of you when you’re all speaking at the same time. One at a time now! I’ll call on you when you raise your hand. And please, serious concerns about animal behavior only!”

One at a time, the townspeople took turns expressing their concerns. Every now and then there was an incident or observation that seemed legitimate and added to the tension in the room. Sarah Weiler, a wife of one of the farmers, explained that al of their goats had stopped producing milk about a week ago and only walked in circles now; in the morning they started off walking in small circles until they eventually spread out into wider and wider concentric circles.

Ethan, one of the field workers on Henry’s team, described that his dogs also weren’t eating and would find places within the house to hide as soon as the sun started going down.

Maggie Jones, one of the oldest members of the town and a bit of a recluse, raised her hand to speak and Henry nodded in her direction.

“Many of you know I’m mostly bound to my house these days and don’t see many people, except when visitors call, which isn’t much,” Maggie started. “To pass the time, I usually sit in my rocking chair in the window and look out so I can see the world still spinning without me. Well, I’ve seen something lately that I can’t… ”

She paused, her face darting around to her neighbors and fellow townspeople. The room was silent.

“Please Ms. Jones, go on,” Henry urged.

“I can’t explain what I’ve seen and I know most of you will think I’m bored and lonely and I’m just making it all up, but I have to speak my truth. I’ve seen… figures … moving about in the shadows, along the edges of buildings. They’re slumped over and don’t quite take the shape of man or beast, and they only come out in the dark. The first time I saw one, I thought maybe it was a lame animal that needed help, but as soon as a person was approaching from around the corner, I saw that it actually moved quite quickly to conceal itself.”

The crowd erupted in shouts and questions.

“Well what the hell are they?”

“Have you seen them hurt any people?”

“Are you sure it’s not just some kids playing jokes on you?”

And so on. Henry slammed on the gavel again. The crowd grew quiet again.

“Ms. Jones,” Henry started.

“Please, just call me Maggie,” she responded.

“Maggie,” Henry started again, “is there anything else you can tell us about what you’ve seen?”

“Like I said, they’re very careful to stick to the shadows. But I did get a glimpse of one of their… I guess what you would call ‘faces,’ except it wasn’t really a fully formed face. Please everyone just be cautious. I don’t know what these things are, but I know they’re not something you want to run into alone in the dark.”

The crowd erupted again and this time the governor took control. He banged the gavel and called for order.

“Everyone, calm down. We will get to the bottom of this. For right now, the sun is about to set, so why don’t we all head back to our homes before sundown and meet here at the same time tomorrow to discuss more how to handle these mystery figures,” the governor said.

People continued talking amongst each other as they began to file out of the old brick town hall building. Henry, Dr. Jeffries, the governor, and a few other men stuck around to briefly discuss the agenda for the next day, which would include how to keep everyone safe and how to verify the truth of what Maggie Jones was saying.

Once the group of men dispersed, Henry took it upon himself to check on Maggie and make sure she got home safely. He also wanted to ask her more questions in private, away from the tension of the crowded town meeting.

Henry approached Maggie’s humble cottage towards the outskirts of the small town. As he raised his fist and started to knock on the door, he realized it hadn’t been closed all the way, so he pushed it open.

“Maggie?” He called out as he stepped inside.

No one responded.

It didn’t take him long to look around her small cottage and realize that she wasn’t here. He had never been inside her home before, but everything seemed to be where it should be. Except for Maggie.

Henry left the cottage and pulled the door shut behind him. He saw something move in his periphery and sharply turned his head to see what it was. He couldn’t see much at the edge of the forest. The trees were backlight by a luminous moon, and their shadows grew tall along the ground. 

Then, just there, it moved again – a mishappen, shadowy figure slipped into the line of trees. Henry dared not follow it. He turned and ran for town, shouting to whoever would listen.

To his surprise, everyone was still going about town as if the news from the town meeting meant nothing to them. He found the governor, Dr. Jeffries, and the sheriff talking outside the town hall.

“You must come with me!” Henry exclaimed.

“My dear man, whatever is the matter?” the governor asked him.

“It’s Maggie Jones, she’s not in her home! I think she’s been taken!” Henry told the group. “I think she’s been taken by one of those creatures she told us about. I saw it!”

“Creatures? What in the hell are you talking about?” the sheriff asked.

“You know, the figures in the shadows Maggie was just telling us about at the town meeting,” Henry was growing frustrated with their indifference.

“Who is this Maggie Jones, Henry?” Dr. Jeffries asked. “Are you feeling quite alright?”

“What?!” Henry shouted. “You must come with me now! We don’t have time for this!”

As he ran ahead of the group, Henry could hear the governor also asking who Maggie Jones was.

Henry turned around and exclaimed, “Seriously, none of you remember Maggie Jones? The odd old woman who stays in her home all day? She was just at the meeting with us!”

“I keep track of every person in this darn town,” the sheriff said, “and I ain’t never heard of a Maggie Jones.”

The group continued to walk behind Henry as he led them to Maggie’s cabin.

“How are we supposed to remember a person who doesn’t exist?” the governor asked.

Henry’s face was covered with sweat by the time they reached the cabin. He stumbled up the stairs and swung the door open, hoping to find a photograph of Maggie to remind them who she was.

Henry stood dumbfounded in the doorway. Not a single piece of furniture or belonging of Maggie Jones was in the quaint cabin where it had just been mere moments ago. It was as if she really had never existed. He ran into her bedroom and found the room to be empty as well, except for freshly painted words written in red on the wall:

“To forget is to live.

To stay is to die.”