The Shadow Man (Completed)

All Hallows Eve

El hombre de las sombras. The shadow man. The demon who lurks in the cloud of darkness that envelops the night. I had heard his name a variation of times in passing, amongst the many tales I'd grown up with. My abuelita was my greatest source for such folklore. She thrived off the storytelling; enjoyed sitting us down in the low-lit living room of our home and immersing us in the surviving tales passed down generation from generation. I recall each and every narrative as if she were sitting down beside me right in this moment, recounting them one after the other. The only one I ever really wondered about, the one that has continued gnawing at me in the back of my head every time without fail around this time of the year was that of The Shadow Man.

When I was eight, I asked my abuelita who he was. I recall the way her graying eyes grew darker, matching her silver hair, neatly wrapped in a bun atop her head. Her voice quickly hushed down as if she were ready to reveal to me a long lasting secret that no one else knew, and this intrigued me. She picked me up and set me down on her lap, rocking us back and forth on the swing that rested against the wall of our back porch.

"Not who honey, what. Que es el?" She let the air carry the question, leaving no room to ask more. She knew the answer, that much was clear. However, I had a strong feeling she didn't want me to delve deeper. At least not yet.

My thoughts lingered for a moment, taking in my present. I watched as the lights flickered on throughout the silent street. One by one, the hues of orange, purple, and green flickered on, akin to a runway, signifying the commence of the ghoulish night.

I watched as my neighbor, Mr. Cohen peeked his head out of the threshold of his home and quickly lit the candle of his newly fresh carved pumpkin. It was a comical sight. He who wanted absolutely nothing to do with All Hallows Eve, or sugar induced children never failed to put up a pumpkin on the same front step every year, like a ritual. He resembled someone who's lifeline hung on by a thread, dictated through it's light source.

I grinned at the old man who peeked at his surroundings, almost as if expecting someone to pop up from the bushes of his unkempt yard, before he disappeared behind the Cherrywood door.

I smiled, recalling the way my abuelita would often go over to that same house. Every holiday, regardless of what it was. She would bake her famous flan, and strode over to that same door with determination. It was her way of making sure that the elderly man didn't feel so alone, especially since he had no family. Yet, since she had passed away three years ago, I wondered who had been there for him.

The more I watched his house, the darker it appeared to grow, despite the candlelit sitting outside. The trees scattered around his yard shook quietly, creating dancing shadows against the white of his home. The longer I stared at it, the more I was pulled into the darkness which grew thicker by the second. It felt like a silent lullaby pulling me into a trance, until the shapes fused together, forming an abstract image, and eventually a dark silhouette. I watched unblinking as something about it began to feel morbidly wrong, eerie. Alive.

"Hello Evelyn!" The piercing sound of a voice snapped me out of the sudden daze, and I jumped, startled.

"Are you alright dear?" The sweet voice of Mrs. Penelope directed me to her standing figure, just outside my house.

I nodded feeling embarrassed, as my elderly neighbor gave me a nod herself, not looking at all convinced that I was in fact alright. Once she disappeared, I fixed my gaze back to Mr. Cohen's home. However, the dancing shadow had gone back to being the reflection of the leaves and branches of the trees.

I trained my eyes to my surroundings. The street was coming to life, as children dressed in the latest movie characters made their way around the cul de sac, accompanied by adults who attempted to look borderline terrifying but not enough to warrant spending the night sleeping by their child's side.