The Shadow

If anyone were to ask me about my childhood, I’d tell them that is was like no other, the best there ever was. Reminiscent of 80s and 90s childhood movies. The ones that made you feel good, when kids were just being kids, looking for adventure, running into a challenge here and there but always coming out victorious. The Goonies, The Sandlot, etc. What kid didn’t want that life? But it wasn’t always fun and adventure. Sometimes it resembled a scene from a different kind of movie…a horror movie.

In honor of “spooky season,” I thought I’d tell you a little tale that, at the time, wasn’t fun or funny, but rather traumatizing for two young sisters who were home alone. Maybe it still is because even as I’m writing this, I’m a tad bit spooked. It’s late (Around 11ish), I’m in my home office alone, and I keep hearing strange little noises outside of the window. I have the right mind to quit while I’m ahead and finish in the morning but I must press on or who knows when it’ll get done.

The events I am about to share are based on actual events. You can choose to believe or not. Many don’t, not that I blame them, but this is the truth—the way I remember it—in all of its terrifying glory.

The Shadow

1991

“So it just disappeared outta nowhere?”

“Yes,” I replied for what felt like the hundredth time.

Pilar’s eyes stretched so wide, I thought they’d cover her entire face. I looked at my sister and smiled. She shook her head, laughing at our friend. We’d spent most of the walk home from school explaining that our life-sized doll, Nina, had disappeared two weeks ago. Pilar had been terrified of the doll and wanted nothing to do with her. Whenever my sister and I would take Nina outside, Pilar would take off running toward her house at the end of the street. We thought it was funny until Pilar was reduced to tears when I chased her up and down the sidewalks with Nina in my hands, begging her to play and shouting that it was only a doll. She even peed on herself. Poor Pilar. I felt terrible about it even though my sister and I laughed about it later that night. Now Pilar, who was a year younger than my ten years, was pestering us with questions about Nina’s disappearance.

“Maybe she left on her own and went to find another family to torture.”

My sister, who’d been quiet for most of the walk home said, “Oh please, Pilar. She didn’t torture us. We liked that doll. And she didn’t just get up and walk away. She’s a doll. We think our parents got rid of her.”

She was right about that. We did like her. Nina had become a part of our family, like a little plastic sister. My mom had brought her home one day on no special occasion. It was a “just because” gift. Those were the best ones. The presents you weren’t expecting were always the most exciting to receive. We’d spend hours combing her hair and trying to fit our oversized clothes onto her small frame. We wanted to change her out of the normal clothes she came dressed in. It never worked out though. We always ended up putting her back in her own clothes—denim capris and a vibrant multi-colored striped blouse.

My sister was the sensible one, and because she was an eleven year-old sixth grader, Pilar was more inclined to believe her. Pilar’s brown eyes still held a hint of skepticism, but she didn’t mention it for the remainder of the walk home.

When we arrived at our house, we said goodbye to Pilar and headed for the front door. My sister fussed with getting the key in the lock. I glanced up and down the neighborhood. The trees rustled in the wind, a few leaves danced in the street. Aside from the few kids who were making their way home, and our neighbor’s pit bull barking in the distance, the street was unusually quiet. Cars were absent from their driveways, curtains were drawn. It was a bit eerie, and with all that talk about Nina, I had to rub my arms to steady the goosebumps that were beginning to form.

Dad had already left for work and mom wouldn’t be home for another couple of hours or so which meant we had time to do whatever we wanted before we got started on our homework. We threw our backpacks on our beds and grabbed the food dad had prepared before he left—his famous chili.

“You wanna watch one of the movies mom bought us from the outdoor market?” my sister asked.

“Sure, which one?”

“Friday the 13th part eight.”

We both stared at each other for a moment, our minds rolling over the same thought. Are we sure we want to watch a scary movie while we’re home alone, especially after all that Nina talk? Of course we did. We probably shouldn’t have, but we popped the VHS into the VCR and made ourselves comfortable on the couch, a bowl of dad’s chili in each of our hands.

The movie started with Jason’s infamous sound…”ki ki ki ki...” We exchanged another nervous glance but continued on. Besides, Jason wasn’t that scary. We’d seen scarier films like Poltergeist and Pet Sematary. They were all only movies. It’s not like anything crazy was going to happen, right?

Wrong.

This was where things began to get…interesting. Jason had just knocked off the head of the only black actor in the film because he was silly enough to challenge Jason to a boxing match (Who writes this stuff?), when something caught our attention. From the corner of our eye, we saw movement down the hall. My sister and I simultaneously leaned slightly to the right to get a better look. The bathroom light was on and on the bathroom door was a shadow. We went still. We were home alone, at least we were supposed to be. Our vision was obscured by the wall so the only thing we could see was the shadow on the door. Not who, not what. Just a shadow.

It seemed like we watched that shadow for minutes on end but it couldn’t have been longer than seconds. The shadow belonged to someone of short stature and they appeared to be looking in the mirror and styling their hair which was an odd and terrifying thought. We couldn’t stop staring. That is until the shadow stopped moving as if it sensed us watching. Then the shadow began to lean out of the door like it wanted to stare back at us!

We bolted.

My sister, being faster than me, beat me to the door. I thought I’d faint waiting for her to turn the lock and get it opened. I needed to get out of that house! When our feet landed on the porch, we sprinted across the front yard and across the street where we sat on the curb and watched the house like hawks. No, we didn’t run far and I still don’t know why we didn’t go for help. Maybe we were too stunned, scared out of our common sense. Instead, we kept our eyes glued to the front of the house, waiting for someone to come chasing after us, which in that case, we’d run for our lives, screaming until we lost our voices.

But nothing happened.

There was no movement in the windows, no one came through the front door. The house was still and so was our neighborhood, which was strange and that added to our fear. There were no neighbors outside, kids playing in the streets, no one arriving home from work. I sat on my hands to stop them from trembling. Neither of us said a word.

We watched.

We waited.

Time passed and I was internally shouting for joy when I finally saw mom’s car rounding the corner. She could barely get the car door opened before my sister and I were in her face, talking at once about what we had witnessed. She made us wait outside while she went inside to check the house. We were biting our nails with anticipation—one of us ready to run for help (me) if someone was in the house, and the other ready to run inside (my sister) and help mom if the short attacker came for her.

Mom appeared in the doorway and told us to come inside. Everything was okay. We were hesitant but we followed her. No one was in the house. All of the windows were closed and locked and so was the back door. There was no evidence that anyone had been in the house or had left. Nothing was making sense. We both knew what we had seen but we wouldn’t discuss it until later. Our parents thought it was funny, that our minds had been playing tricks on us because we had been watching a scary movie. “I told y’all about watching that stuff,” mom had said.

We told our friends. They laughed, all of them except Pilar who kept insisting that it was Nina who was possessed by an evil spirit and had come back for us. We thought on that a long while, knowing that as crazy as it sounded, it wasn’t a far-fetched idea. Mainly because of what we didn’t tell her. The scariest part of the whole story. We hadn’t told anyone, not even each other. Who would believe us? Who would believe that when the shadow went to lean out of the doorway, we caught a glimpse of something? Something that we both can agree on. Something that still sends chills creeping down my spine to this day. Who would believe that we saw the shadow’s vibrant multicolored striped sleeve just before we ran out the door?