The Shadow

He turned off the highway and slowed his car as he funneled on to the main street of the hometown he had not seen in twenty years. All of his formative years were spent here, from grammar school, through middle and high school. Like most of his friends, he graduated high school, and left for college. He had looked forward to seeing his friends during Thanksgiving break, but during the autumn of his freshman year, his father took a job that landed them on the other side of the country. From then on, summer breaks and holidays were spent in a foreign place. He had always talked about coming back, but it never seemed to work out. Sometimes he lacked the money, sometime he lacked time. As time moved on, he drifted apart and his memories receded further into the past. Now, fresh off a recent divorce, he was back for his 20th reunion. He took an early flight so that he would have time to drive around and take a stroll down memory lane.

Autumn was waning in the Northeast and only a few stubborn leaves, vibrant in color, still clung to the trees. The rest lay piled on the side of the road or strewn across the yards. Swarms of birds, black against a grey sky, swirled their way toward their winter homes. He found that he missed this place and was excited to be back. As his car crawled its way toward the center of town he saw the bank his grandmother worked at when he was a child. He couldn’t recall the name of the bank, but he remembered she always gave his sister and him extra lollipops when they came through with their mom. On the other side of the street were the police and fire stations. He marveled at their dark stone walls and Spanish style roofs- something he never appreciated as a kid. He hadn’t yet learned how boring those buildings could be. He came to a halt to let a pedestrian cross, -and saw the deli where he and his dad would get the Sunday paper. He always got a pack of baseball cards if he came along for the ride. On special occasions they would go to the bakery next door, to pick out a dozen donuts. The bakery was gone and replaced by what looked to be a nail salon. Next came the liquor store where he worked in high school, stocking coolers and breaking down boxes. That place exactly the same, save that it was a little more weathered. The neon sign still worked. “Herb’s Liquors”, it said, though it was owned by a guy named Harold. That made him chuckle. He never understood that one.

A hometown ages just like people, he thought. The buildings were all still there but painted different colors and occupied by different tenants. What struck him most was how much smaller everything seemed. The houses and buildings looked closer together and the streets more narrow. Perhaps he was remembering it through the eyes of a child, where everything actually is bigger. Or maybe it’s just that memory has a mind of its own. 

Whatever the case, he was happy to be here and spent the next hour or so cruising all around his old stomping grounds.

He saw his childhood home and was shocked by the lack of nostalgia he felt. Without his family there, it was just another house. He passed by his old grammar school, which hadn’t changed much, but the high school had seen quite a few upgrades, including additional buildings and new sports facilities. He drove by the home of his childhood sweetheart, Valerie, the first girl he ever kissed. He wondered what her story was and if she would be there tonight. His mind took that thought and ran it a hundred directions.

He had hit most of the places on his list and still had some time to kill before he needed to check into his hotel and get cleaned up. The only place left on his list was Green Acres Park. The park was the geographic center of town and hub for community activities. Where you lived in relation to the park determined if you were an Eastender or Westender. This was true of everyone except the folks who lived in the historic Victorian neighborhood that surrounded the park. It was called Sacred Hallow, and the people there were neither Eastenders nor Westenders. They simply were.

These homes were the original houses built back when the town served as a weekend getaway for the rich merchants of New York City. Each home was enormous and were of unique and detailed design. Some had gables and others had turrets and they all had many windows of all shapes and sizes, some of which were of intricate stained glass. Unlike most Victorian homes, these were not painted in bright and gaudy colors. Instead, they were tastefully done in earth tone pallets, as if they were an extension of the landscape itself. Giant oak trees loomed like sentinels and their imposing size cast shadows in the daytime even without their leaves. 

The park was bound on the other side by the Stony Brook, which meandered its way around the park, before it turned and went its separate way. He crossed the bridge that forded the brook and turned onto the gravel drive the led into the park. He felt a slight tinge of fear awaken as his tires crunched their way over rocks and leaves. Not only was Green Acres the center for community activities, it was also the center of town folklore, and at the heart of that lore was the thing he feared most as a boy: The Shadow. 

Local folklore held that The Shadow lived in the trees between the park and Sacred Hallow. If you were caught by yourself in the park at night, the shadow would emerge from the woods and swallow you up, never to be seen or heard from again. Enough people had disappeared from there to make it plausible but not so many that it drew attention. Kidnappings were not unheard this close to New York City. 

He eased his car past the basketball and tennis courts and made for the parking lot near the playground. This playground was by far the best in town, and dwarfed all the others. He saw a few moms with strollers had gathered on a bench while their kids climbed the bars, crawled through the tunnels and slid down the slides. He was glad to see that it was well-maintained.

He got out of his car and stretched his legs. He walked through the playground to the grassy field which was used for picnics and pick games of various sorts. Beyond the field were two bodies of water. One was a natural pond blanketed with a layer of green scum, and the other was a larger man-made lake. Each was adorned with weeping willows. This was the site of the town fishing derby which took place every spring. He laughed as he recalled he never caught a single fish. In the winter they served as an ice rink for people to skate or play hockey. (He could never skate).

He decided he had enough time towalk a lap on the trail around the lake before he headed off to his hotel. The sky was overcast, but the temperature was mild for this time of year. As he walked along, his thoughts drifted back to the Shadow and how it haunted his youth. He felt that spark of fear in his stomach again.

It seemed silly as a grown man to regress to his childhood fears. He thought he had crumpled that fear into a ball and disposed of it long ago, but apparently it still dwelled somewhere in the recess of his mind. He might not have even remembered The Shadow if he didn’t come back. As he walked, he reminisced about the summer when he was about twelve. He and some kids were at the park on their bikes, and the conversation turned toward The Shadow. He couldn’t remember all that was said, he just remembered that one of the kids lived in Sacred Hallow, and insisted it was real. Somehow, because he lived next to the park, that had lent credence to the tale he told.

From then on, he avoided the park in the evenings at all costs. The problem was, that he was a Westender and most of his friends were Eastenders. His parents had the rule that he had to home before dark, so when he was hanging out on their side of town, he took to leaving earlier and taking the long way around the park. 

Leaves skittered in the breeze as he came around the lake toward the Sacred Hallow side of the lake. Creepy gables peeked through the trees and their windows felt like eyes watching him. He thought about the night it happened. He was at the east end hanging with his friends when a group of girls their age joined them. He had taken a liking to the girl named Valerie, who would eventually become his first love. They talked and laughed for what felt like hours and he loved being close to her. But late August had snuck up on him and the sun was going down sooner. He had lost track of time and weas going to be late getting home. If that happened, his parents would take his bike away and he had already promised Valerie they would meet again tomorrow. There was no way he was going to miss that date and that meant he had to cut through Green Acres if he was going to be home in time. He decided it was worth it and made his way home.

His heart rate quickened as he approached the park and he picked up the pace. Fear surged through him as he rode with a vengeance. His nerves grew hard. The shadows deepened and the temperature dropped as he passed beneath the canopy of oaks. The street lights had yet to come on, and the park’s entrance was darker than dark. As he crossed the bridge he thought he saw the shadows move. Part of him said it was his imagination, part wasn’t taking chances. As he passed it by he thought he heard muffled screams and cries for help. Mostly children’s voices but some adults. scream. The shadow moved with a liquid grace, and a tendril of black stretched out toward him. He hammered on the pedals and got to the far side of the road. He felt a piercing cold grip which nearly pulled him from his bike as he passed through that evil mass, but he made it through. He pedaled until he couldn’t anymore and when he looked behind, nothing was in pursuit. He got home safely and on time and never made that mistake again. 

As he came back into the present, he saw that the the sky was settling into dusk. He still had a ways to go and picked up the pace. What began as a spark of fear, had kindled to a flame. What seemed silly a short while ago, seemed now like a legitimate threat. He looked around and saw no one else. On the edge of the woods, the houses stood watching. The light through the stained-glass window cast a spectral glow upon the trees around it. He noticed a patch of woods near the edge of the field that appeared darker than the rest. As he watched it shifted and grew. He recognized that liquid grace. He began to run but years of bad food a neglect did not allow him to go far. He stood panting, desperately trying to catch his breath. 

He looked behind him and The Shadow was there. Fear had him frozen in place, and then the voices came. They were faint at first but grew louder as The Shadow approached. Cries for help to parents that weren’t there. Please for mercy. He tried to move but his legs were like jelly. The Shadow was all around him now, and the cries were louder. From the depths of the shadow a creature emerged blacker than the rest. It drew its form from the blackness around it and grew until it towered over his cowering form. With a voice like a rusty nail, the creature spoke.

“All of this time you made me wait, now you are finally mine.”

The creature was suddenly everywhere. His body felt like it was trapped in ice. He let out a scream but there was no one there to hear it. His body got colder and colder, and the night got blacker and blacker. He screamed again and no one came.