Shadows

“Sasha!” mom hollers from the bottom of the stairs. If she doesn’t answer, mom will call for one of the boys. “SASHA!” or she won’t.

Reluctantly, twelve-year-old Sasha starts to lower ‘Weird Girl’ by Myranda Marie, the book about an awkward girl who, together with her big ass dog, becomes part of a teenage werewolf pack. And discovers she has the special power of ‘seeing’.

Just one more page.

“SASHA! Now!”

“Coming!” She runs down the stairs. Hopefully, this won’t take long so she can go back up in a second and finish the chapter. Surely Luca will get out of trouble, but …

“What?” She asks as she bursts into the kitchen.

“We’re out of coffee. Run to the store and get a bag. Hurry, before the store closes.” Mom shoves her coin purse at Sasha. “Go, go!” and turns back to the stove.

“But it’s almost dark!” she whines.

“The dark won’t bite you.”

Slinging a tote over her shoulder, mumbling under her breath, what does she know, Sasha grabs her bike and rides away.

There is no such thing as a quick trip to the store. The lady behind the counter loves to talk. No matter how many people are waiting, Mrs. Pierson has to hear every last detail of Mr. Lame’s gall bladder attack, or Aunt Minnie’s hernia, or Suzie’s report card, or …

It's no different today. Mr. Widget tells her everything anyone would ever want to know about how to get a patent on a gadget he thinks will save the world.

Sasha hops from one foot to the other. Comeoncomeoncomeon. But nobody pays her any mind and Mrs. Chatter who is ahead of her is not known for her shyness. There is no cutting in line, no sweetly asking if she can go ahead. She’ll just get raised eyebrows, and her mother will be politely scolded for not teaching Sasha better manners.

So, she tunes out the gossip and tries to figure out how Luca could get himself out of the jam he’s in, or would the rest of the wolf pack come and help him? That would be so cool. To have such a tight-knit group of friends that they’d drop everything to help. She can’t imagine having friends, or even brothers like that. People who’d seriously listen to her ideas. Oh, the things she could do, if …

Mrs. Chatter unloads her basket, one item at a time while she tells Mrs. Pierson in excruciating detail how her bowel movements have wreaked havoc with her peace of mind and confidence. And that she has tried this product and that food item, followed, in living color, by what the results were.

Oh, gag! Really? Shouldn’t that be between her and her doctor?

Mrs. Pierson doesn’t seem to think so, she’s all ears and full of sympathy, even offers a handful of homemade remedies. The two women walk back to the home remedy aisle and discuss the benefits and side effects of each product.

Mrs. Chatter has left the store, after lingering with her hand on the doorknob, repeating Mrs. Pierson’s all-time best recipes. Finally, it’s Sasha’s turn.

“Will that be all, dear?

‘Yes, Ma’am.”

“And how are you doing in school, child?”

“Fine.”

“Fine, what?” Mrs. Pierson raises one eyebrow and holds the package of coffee hostage till Sasha answers.

“Fine, Mrs. Pierson, thank you for asking.” Sasha only has eyes for the bag of coffee beans and holds her hand out to Mrs. Pierson.

“May I have the coffee please. My mum’s waiting for it.”

“How’s your mother?”

“She’s fine but will be fit to be tied if she doesn’t get her coffee beans soon, thank you, Mrs. Pierson.”

“Well!” Mrs. Pierson exclaims. “I never ...” And hands the bag of beans to Sasha.

“Yes, ma’am. Have a good evening. Thank you.” The shop door closes behind her with a ring of the bell and her heartfelt sigh.

Trembling, knowing she may face unspeakable truths, she climbs on her bike again.

Is she too late? Is it that time, already?

The time when shadows pull away from their owners. Time when nightmares step out for some fresh air and a smoke. When the monsters slip out from under the beds and come out to play. When unnamed forces gather for a chat.

She is cutting it close. She must hurry, she simply has to be off the street, or she could be lost forever. Caught in a web spun by trolls and gremlins, captured by a stray warlock’s spell. Turned by a werewolf or taken by a …

She gasps.

What is that sound? The rustling in those bushes. Mr. Haas lives there. He keeps bees, he’s always so careful but what if they have stung him and …

She whimpers

Is someone whispering? Who or what can be out there? Why did mom have to send her out just before dusk. Couldn’t the errand have waited till tomorrow? Couldn’t she have thought of it earlier?

There!

She swears she saw movement there behind those trees. Are the shadows out on their own yet? No, hers is still with her, but fading rapidly.

A shiver runs down her back.

Something cold touches her just now. Is that the gremlin web?

Anxiety and panic battle for first place.

Hurry! Go home. Now!

Oh, shit! Zombies!

The two pale shapes in the small car behind her. They are pointing at her! Smiling malevolently. No! They are following her, aren’t they?

Hurry! Pedal harder! Go faster! Don’t let them catch you. Are they still there?

Hair streaming behind her, legs pumping as fast as she can, standing on the pedals, leaning over the handlebars, flying around the corner, one, two, three houses, she streaks into the driveway, throws the bike against the house, runs around the garage to the kitchen door.

“Someone is following me!” Panic, the obvious winner, is evident in her voice as she puts the package of coffee on the counter and bends over to catch her breath.

“Nonsense.” Her mother declares at the same time that the doorbell rings.

Sasha hurries up the stairs, fully prepared to hide in her room when she hears her mother exclaim with delight.

“Sasha, come and say hello.” 

Shasha cautiously descends the stairs, plastering a polite smile on her face. Still not sure that they aren’t zombies, worrying if this will be her last night. But it can’t be! She hasn’t finished the book yet.

“Come now. You know your Aunt Rita and Uncle Rudolf.” Her mother nudges her.

“I do?”