Shadows of the Past

Shadows of the Past (Revised)

The sky is clear tonight. There are no clouds to block the moon from shining down on the two-story house by a lake. Moonlight streaks into the hall and kitchen through windows lining the exterior of the house, casting an eerie glow. Framed pictures hang on the walls, images of a smiling family, those moments in time preserved. A large arrangement of flowers rest on the kitchen table, the petals wilted from lack of proper care. Cards filled with writing are neatly stacked beside the flowers, the colours muted in the dark of the night. Light peaks out from under a door down the hall and inside, the rattle of metal can be heard.

Sitting on a large, dark red carpet is a young boy, building a metal toy Ferris wheel. Bolts and small rectangular metal strips make up the Ferris wheel. A box with the finished product printed on the front lays off to the side as if the boy doesn't need the instructions to rebuild it. Bit by bit, the wheel comes closer to completion but with every piece added, tension becomes more visible on the kid's face.

A picture frame hangs on the wall near the door, facing the window. In the faint glow of the old light bulb, 2 pictures are seen sitting side by side in the frame. In the picture on the left a middle-aged man is sitting next to a young boy, the box with a Ferris wheel printed on the front between them. The picture on the right shows the Ferris wheel completed with the boy posing with his dad, smiles so wide they reach the edges of their faces.

ᆞᆞᆞᆞᆞ

You didn't need to leave. — rattle —

We told you not to go — I told you not to go.

"I won't be long" is what you said. "I'll see you soon" were the last words I heard from you, like you were just going to come back in a few minutes. — squeak —

But it wasn't like that, was it? — screech —

And now, you can't keep your word, because you're gone. Forever. — crash —

I look down to the mess in front of me. Grey and brown pieces of metal lay sprawled along the hardwood floor, some still on the fuzzy mahogany carpet.

Broken.

Just like Dad.

I gather the pieces that make up the Ferris wheel, counting the parts as I go. I return the pieces to the box but there's one piece missing, and it happens to be the main cog that turns the whole wheel. I check under my bed, behind my dresser, and under the carpet but nothing turns up except for a lot of dust. With a sigh, I plop down on the edge of my bed, pulling my stuffed Pokémon doll up to my chest, my legs hanging off the side of the bed. I stare at the box that holds the pieces that make up the Ferris wheel on the carpet, hoping Dad would knock on the door like he used to.

I look up at the sound of something sliding down the wall just as I see the picture hanging by the door hit the ground beside my bed. The glass shatters, leaving the pictures of me and Dad open to anything and everything. I close my eyes, hoping things would go back in time. Back to when Dad was alive.

When I open my eyes, I think for a moment that maybe it has. The pictures are gone, but not the broken glass around the dark frame. Feeling uneasy, I get off my bed.

Not now. Please not now.

But I have no such luck tonight. Standing in the corner of my room just under the window that let in the moonlight, is a dark figure in the form of a person.

They started appearing soon after the funeral and each time, they would come after me. I've come to expect them, despite the inconsistent appearances. One thing is certain though; this creature isn't the only one in the house.