Shadow

[December 13th, 2013]

The day had started off like any other day.

Then, evening rolled in and things started going south. At first, it was something small. The irritating light in her room whose bulb kept flickering as she attempted to finish off her mini-project for school. Strange buzzing coming from behind the wall of her room, the one that separated her from her neighbors. She brushed it away, thinking that it was just her mind playing tricks – tiredness was the most likely culprit.

It was when that butterfly showed up – which in itself was strange, considering she had been expecting a moth instead, this late into the evening – that she began questioning the happenings inside her house.

'Funny, never seen a butterfly like this one,' Amity though, tilting her head as she observed the insect that was currently fluttering just above her head. It seemed more peoccupied in her than it was by the light, floating there. As its wings moved, she could swear the colors and patterns seemed to shift, blacks, golds, and silvers squirming out of their place and changing shape. The wings, they didn't seem solid either. Not quite.

As she stood up, squinting her eyes, the butterfly finally moved away. She drew closer, watching as it flew out of her room. It wasn't in the normal, slightly clumsy way that butterflies normally fly in; up, down, swaying and bobbing a little as they flew. No, it flew straight as if knowing exactly where it was headed.

Or perhaps it just knew where the girl would head. 'No, that isn't possible,' Amity swore.

Following quietly, she watched as the buttefly was swallowed by the darkness off the hallway. Still, it went on, with the swirls of lighter colours seemed to glow in the dark. Whisps of platinum illuminating the way. Not, until the very last moment, the moment where the butterfly descended into the basement, did she realise where she'd been walking. Out of her own volition, nevertheless.

You see, everyone, even an adolescent, had their own place where they would never put a foot forward. No one would ever catch Amity within feet of the basement. Not out of her own free will, no. She herself had forgetten the very reason why. You just didn't.

Now as she crept down the wooden stairs, her original expression of intrigue slowly molding into that of fear, she began to question herself about what that reason may have been. From what she could see, the stretched out, silvery spider webs that were splayed across the corners of the room, were a valid enough reason. The occasional and absolutely dreadful scuttling sounds that she could hear as she entered deeper still didn't ease her nerves. Then, of course, there was the fact that the butterfly itself seemed to have vanished.

For a moment, Amity's breath caught. Reaching for the railing, she almost jumped back when a very faint rattling sound echoed through the room. With a little more of the scuttling, one of the many terrors of the basement appeared just at the corner of her vision and she immediately let go of the wooden railing.

Appearing from one of the larger cracks in the crumbling and highly unreliable structure crawled out an arachnid. Instead of doing what any smarter teen would have done, Amity chose to go down, instead of heading back up and escaping through the basement door.

She stood now, at the bottom of the stairs, on the cold floor, eyeing the spider. Its thin legs were covered in nobs where the limbs could bend. Whenever it moved, it would make that dreadful sound, like the tail of a rattlesnake and the scuttling of a large beetle morphed together in a nightmarish mix. Its abdomen wasn't furry, like that of most larger spiders, nor was it's head. Instead, it was smooth and generally black, like a polished opal. And just like an opal, the ebony hue wasn't the only one on its body. The thin, angular body was covered in lines of silver, the same color as its web. Eight eyes, not exactly the right color, blinked at her. As if curious, the eight-legged creature came closer and as it did, she could see the knobs on its legs were actually a faded yellow (or was it gold?) color.

She gulped, surrendering a single whimper as she backed away. Crashing into a box. The rattling and scuttling grew louder.

'Are there more?' she panicked, slowly looking up.

And there were. Two of them, suspending their stick thin legs and angular bodies painted in unnatural stripes of golds, silvers or whites, just above her head.

Who cared about that butterfly anymore?! She was so not staying in this araneae-infested nightmare realm. She didn't so much as blink, or breath, before taking a dash up the stairs, clambering up faster than she had ever climbed a set of stairs in her life. Once finally out, she shut the door, leaning against it as the shock dropped and the breathlessness caught up.

'I am not going down there again,' she promised to herself as she shut her eyes. She breathed in and even as she did, she could sense that she wouldn't be able to keep up to this vow.

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[December 14th, 2013]

"Amity! Can you get the milk? There's change on the table," her mother's voice called from upstairs.

It had been a day since the spider incident. And if she could, Amity would avoid any dark place where spiders could lurk. Still, there were no spiders in shops... were there? Even if there were, the little white lie would do miracles for her mental health.

Sighing, she picked up the money from the dinner table and walked outside. The cold air ruffled her hair just the slightest bit, as she walked on. Though as she reached the end of the block, her glance fell on a darkly coated feline who coincidentally – yes, that was it, it was only a coincidence – decided to wander up to her block. Perhaps it was about to beg for some treats. Besides, it wasn't cats she was scared of.

Even this, coal-black specimen appeared harmless in comparison to the spiders. Sitting down, it looked at her in an inquisitive way, as though questioning her choices. Maybe it just didn't like the clothes she was wearing.

Yes, that had to be it. If she was a cat, she wouldn't like a hoodie with a pug on it anymore that this cat did. However, she wasn't a cat and therefore she had no real idea of what had made this cat criticise her so. Could cats criticise people? It seemed like it, as the cat narrowed its eyes at her. She was sure that she was glowering at the pug, but a little voice told her that there nothing wrong with the shirt. The cat was looking straight at her. Unblinking. Unmoving. For the next few seconds, they stared at one another. It was Amity who broke off the stare first.

"Weird cat," she muttered to herself. Though as she turned around, the cat proceeded to follow her.

'Correction: creepy cat.'

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[December 21st, 2013]

What does a thirteen-year-old do when life begins to act oddly? What should a teenager do? Tell an adult? End up talking to a psychologist? Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Amity wasn't crazy. She wasn't insane. A nut-house.

She vaguely remembered her mother's questions from the past week or so.

"You look tired. Did you have bad dreams?"

"Is there something in school that's troubling you?"

"Why don't you ever go to the basement honey?"

"Aren't you a bit old to be scared of spiders?"

She shook her head. No, she definitely wasn't too old. There were plenty of girls in her school that were scared of spiders. School had always troubled her, but it wasn't what kept her awake. Bad dreams, that's what they were. Though her mother didn't need to know that. What would she think if Amity admitted this to her? Along with the basement and the queer cat from around the block?

It was a week now. She still hadn't been down in the basement again. Though her mother would put a stop to that.

"Amity? Could you go down to the basement for me? I need you to take a box from there. It should be titled 'Charity'," her mother asked. Amity could say no. Risking that her parent would question her avoidance of that particular room in the house.

She sighed.

'It's only spiders,' she promised herself. 'Spiders and nothing else.'

Repeating this all the way down the stairs, hearing the faint creak, she found herself next to a pile of boxes in a few seconds flat. Squinting her eyes, she briefly chastised herself for not bringing a source of light, before looking around.

Scuttle.

Rattle.

Pit.

Pat.

Plop.

Scuttle...

She shuddered. Not at the drops that she could hear from the outside of the house, falling against the window of the basement. The raindrops would scatter and drip down the class, pooling on the ground outside. No. That was just the rain. It was that damned scuttling. That was made her own skin crawl and itch in discomfort. Even her hair crawled at those sounds.

But the spiders weren't there. No matter how hard she looked.

'This is stupid,' she thought. 'You're stupid. You're acting like a child.'

Her eyes landed on the books labelled 'Charity' soon enough. Relief swept through her. Now all she would have to do was carefully take it away from the pile.

She reached out. Her finger gripped the edges of the box, feeling for the thin cardboard surface.

The stairs creaked. She jumped back. There wasn't anybody on them, though. She was sure she was the only one here. Taking a step back, she pulled at the box. Somewhere in the basement, something dropped. Her grip loosened. The box fell, the content tumbling out.

Gulping, she looked around. There were steps, resounding through the room. Fast ones, rapid scampering. Rats...?

Her fingers clenched into fists. She tensed. There hadn't been any rats since...

There was a faint hiss. Then a light gurgling sound, followed by a friendly call. A reptilian call, or at least it seemed like that of a lizard. She'd heard it somewhere before. In a movie, perhaps? But she couldn't place it.

A few more boxes cascaded from another pile, dropping to the ground. She flinched as she spotted a large silhouette of something, moving in the background. It was large, with a tail, a head... and who knows how many limbs. Larger than a dog. Maybe larger than a horse, but she really couldn't tell in the dark. It turned around immediately after being caught. A pair of reptilian, golden-silver eyes peered at her from behind a stack of boxes. She could see the faint outlines of a pair of claws, scales surrounding them.

She croaked out a cry for help, before taking a step back. Tripping over one of the boxes, she fell into the pile behind her.

It closed in, the features clearing up. Definitely scaled. Massive. Slender. Two legs, two arms. She was certain there was a pair of wings tucked at its sides too. Backing away, she spotted a spider just above her. One of those from before. Gangly, alien. Terrifying.

"G-get away!" she hissed, pushing herself forward and once again fleeing the scene.

The stairs seemed a blur beneath her feet as she ran. Amity didn't even try to support herself with the treacherous railing as she fled.

Once away from both terrors, she shut the door. Gasping, she leaned against it again, this time sliding down, as she slumped against the wooden surface. Exhaling, she could feel her body tremble in fear. Whatever was in that basement, she hoped it would stay down there. Along with spiders. Along with her mother's bloody box.

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[January 20th, 2014]

The argument that came after that event was not one that Amity had won. In fact, she wound up being forced to go to the child psychiatrist that resided in the town center. For a thirteen-year-old, it was hardly pleasing. "I'm not insane!" she had fought her mother, tooth and claw.

"Maybe not, but you're going anyway. I've had just about enough!"

In short, over the span of the next month or so, it hadn't been the last time she had been in that basement. All under the command of her mother. She'd tried to explain what she had found there, but every time, her mother would wave it off, thinking her daughter was seeing things. Mrs. Parker was very much insinuating that her daughter was some schizophrenic maniac and that wasn't a theory Amity would agree with.

However, the chat with the psychologist seemed to hold no answers.

"Mrs. Parker, according to these tests, your daughter seems mental stable. A little prone to believing things, but then again, she's still a child according to the law." That was what the psychologist had been claiming. There was nothing wrong with her.

However, what she was suggesting to Amity herself wasn't quite as comforting.

"Amity, do the children at your school bully you?"

"No, not anymore."

"Do you have friends?"

"A few?"

"Let me rephrase that: do you have any friends that are... say... a little different?"

"Different?"

"When was the last time when you brought your friends home? When did your mother meet your friends last?"

"Are... you thinking I'm crazy? That my friends are... imaginary?"

She refused to answer anything after that. Amity Parker had friends alright. Real. Even if she barely trusted them. Her psychiatrist would ask her about her fears and she would stay silent. She'd then ask about dreams; if she had any nightmares. There would be the odd nod, but she would refuse to specify.

She shuddered at the thought. Even a thirteen-year-old had a powerful imagination. The picture that came to her mind at the thought of being considered crazy, wasn't a lovely one. It looked like a prison cell, all white, with barred windows and doors with locks.

Insane. She wasn't insane. A coward, maybe. Not out of her mind.

Taking a flashlight, she knew she had to prove her mother wrong. That night, she'd stepped out of her room, in her night clothes, with just a flashlight for defence. Perhaps she could snoop through a few of the boxes whilst she was in that accursed basement. Maybe she could find out why she was having nightmares. Why she heard things that her mother didn't hear. Why she saw things that she shouldn't be seeing. Because she wasn't insane. This wasn't her fault. And she wanted to know who was behind this. Who she could blame for this hell.

She made her way down those steps again, cursing the sound they made.

It was the butterfly she had spotted on that first evening that appeared in front of her now. With the very same wings, seeming to glow in the tenebrous room, fluttering gracefully in the air. It looped around her, dancing in midair as she reached the bottom of those stairs, walking down the cool ground.

With her flashlight pointed at the boxes, she ignored the butterflies antics and she searched. There had to be something from her past. If she had imaginary friends or strange fears in the past that had just resurfaced, they would be in one of those boxes. She was sure of it. Her eyes fell on a box with her name on it. It wasn't the only one, but this one was labelled "Amity, ages 10-12". It would be about that time when she would have probably had the clearest memories, her own memories. If she had been different before, if she had been bullied before, it would be in about that age, when children started to differ from one another. She used her free hand to pull out that box, placing it down on the floor.

Then, the scavenging began.

Going through her books, clothes that she no longer needed, but treasured nevertheless, she smiled a little, forgetting that she was in a dangerous place. It helped that none of the scuttling could be heard.

Her eyes soon landed on a book titled "my diary" with her own name at the top of the first page. Skimming through it, she noted the pictures, how strange they were. There were never any pictures drawn with her friends in it, not until her 11th year of life. However, there was one person that seemed to act like her companion around her, according to her notes. It was written funnily enough, in a childish scribble.

January 13th, 2011

I am really happy that Shadow is there to help me. Today, I could have fallen out of a tree. But he saved me. But he did scare me out of in the first place. So I guess he owed me that. :)

There was a funny little picture underneath that note, one she couldn't quite comprehend. She could recognize herself in the arms of the person, but there was something strange about this Shadow. It wasn't just his name either. He looked different. Of course, his features could have been exaggerated, but he seemed to be different from a normal human being, despite this. His eyes were strange too, different. Human, but their colour was anything but.

There would be more pictures of him and herself together, but whenever her so-called friend was smiling, it seemed as though he'd never smiled before. The expression seemed sincere enough, but not natural and the teeth weren't helping.

She shivered. Or perhaps her younger self had no idea what smiles really looked like.

Amity looked on, scanning the next few pages. Before she landed one. So she did have bullies in the past. It wasn't Shadow either, though part of her had thought he ought to have been considered the bully.

March 5th, 2011

I told Shadow about the bullies. Maybe I should have just kept silent. It was nice of him to take care of them, but the way he had said it... it seemed like he would do worse. A lot worse. I told him to go easy on them. But when I saw them the next day, they seemed scared of me.

I argued with Shadow about that. I'm sorry about that. It was wrong. He helped me and I tried to push him away.

But at least he agreed he would not give people bad dreams about flying spiders again.

October 7th, 2011

I know my birthday is much later than this. Shadow knows it too. But he gave me this necklace anyway.

(There was a drawing of a pretty necklace with a black, silver and golden pendant hanging off of it, just beneath that section of the note.)

He said that I should have it now. So, I wanted to keep it. I hugged him for it too. Though he looked really surprised when I did. Like if he didn't get hugs often. Then again, he told me that he didn't have other friends aside from me. Though I don't have other friends too. Maybe that's why he protects me as much as he does.

Maybe I should really be more careful. Like he says I should. Anyway, I invited him to the party I was allowed to have for my birthday. Mommy says so.

Though, mommy also gives me a funny look whenever I tell her about Shadow. I wonder why. He is real, like the rest of us. So why does she act like he isn't there? Not that it matters. I know he's there and that's all I need to know. He's there and he'll always be my friend.

October 13th, 2011

Shadow is angry with me. I don't know why.

I mean, I just befriended two girls in my class. Holly and Molly. They're really fun and they like me. So I decided to invite them to my party too. Mommy thinks they are perfect friends for me. Maybe that's why he's angry. Cause he's jealous that mom approves of them and not him.

I tried to tell him that they're great too! I really did.

November 10th, 2011

Shadow told me. But I don't believe him. He said that Holly and Molly are bad friends. But they aren't! They are great friends! Better than him.

I can't believe that he's so jealous. Because what? Because they're girls? Because I know them better? He went so far that he even gave them nightmares! I can't believe he did that. He told me he wouldn't scare them! He promised.

Only bad friends break promises. How could he be so mean, so bad?

I don't want to see him again. I don't want him at my party. I don't want him anywhere near me or my friends!

I just want him to go away!

Because he's wrong. He's nasty.

Maybe I should just pretend he isn't real, just like my mother said he isn't. After all, he's just as much of a bully as Harry and his group.

The pictures and all notes on this 'Shadow' of her's stopped there. Those last lines where was struck her the hardest. It was then that she remembered. Vaguely, yes, but she remembered nonetheless. She remembered being almost eleven at the time. She remembered being that little girl, next to a tall, humanoid creature who was trying to argue with her. His whole form was blurry, just like the picture had been, but he was clearly dressed in black, looking very much like a shadow.

She had pushed him away with all her force, crying that day. It should have been impossible. He was so much taller and stronger than her, with all sorts of abilities up his sleeves. Still, she had managed it, shocking even him at the strength; the resentment that she held for him.

When she looked at him at that time, he had a different expression on his face. One that had made her feel guilty, angry and upset at the same time.

She'd forgotten about him after that, as he faded out of her mind. In the end, she had invited those two 'friends' over, only to reveal to herself that they were fake, just like Shadow had said they were. It was a shock, to know that he was right all along. Though, the worst of it was that at the time, she had no one to admit this to. Shadow had been gone long before that happened. She'd never seen him once after that. She'd never remembered him after that. She had never even apologized. All she had done was continue to live in a world that didn't quite accept her, trying to blend into the crowd.

Amity flicked back, looking at the other drawings. The shadow puppets, the nightmares, everything to do with this 'Shadow' of hers.

And the more she did, the more she felt as though he had always been real. That was what scared her most, more than anything else. Her mother may not have been able to see. Yet, she knew. She knew he was there.

She froze, a cold sensation running down her back.

"Ah, so you do remember," a familiar voice came from behind her, a presence forming nearby. She knew that voice, the sound. Not quite human. Not quite monster.

Her flashlight dropped, falling onto the ground. Her fingers were suddenly numb and the air grew cold. Her hand brushed over the book, shutting it immediately, hoping to rid herself of those memories and perhaps of this presence. Though that very same hand betrayed her, reaching up to her neck, to her collar. It stroked the necklace around her neck, the pendant. Tracing the butterfly shape absentmindedly, she swallowed thickly.

"Long time no see, my dear Amity," the same voice greeted in a more ominous tone.

Turning on her heel, she met face to face with her fear. Her friend. Her foe.