Now You See Me, Now You Don’t

• Shelley Jones, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2013

I’m tucked in nicely on the maple wood window sill, it’s a light pale yellow, but with the darkness of the room it has more of a Rosewood vibe than anything else, but the smooth and hard texture remains the same. I’m overlooking the city. The moon is high in the sky, pure white from this angle, but blue from the other side. The full moon beams brightly, casting shimmering rays of light down onto the empty street, only some sections glowing. No one can see what’s lurking beneath the shadows. I turn my head to the door as someone bangs their first shakily and somewhat hesitantly against it. I don’t say anything, but I hear the familiar, eerie creek of the door as a man heaves it open and pushes under the threshold. His sweat meets my nose in an instant, every one of his pores is shiny and I cringe at the stench of him. He’s scared; I can see the fear in his abnormally large crystal blue orbs. I can smell the fear all over him and its making me sick to my stomach, I can feel it churning. We don’t say anything as my eyes travel down his body, taking in his features. He’s tall, lanky and covered with mud, like he just rolled down the surrounding hill. He’s missing one shoe and the other one is torn, his jeans are ripped and the seams of his now-brown-jacket are beginning to fall apart. Much like he is. I look at his eyes, my expression is blank as he babbles on, trying to get a sentence out but he’s failing. Miserably. His fear and nervousness is over whelming and I want to scream at him to get it together, but I allow the silence to linger between us as my eyes trail over to the luggage bag by the scratched and old wooden desk that wobbles whenever someone walks on the floorboards. The bag is containing two torches, multiple packets of m&m's, spare clothes and many bottles of water, all of which I purchased at the local store. He murmurs some faint words of what he saw; the ghost of his dead father. The father he killed many years ago. Things just got interesting. I push myself off the window sill and approach him, agreeing to find the ghost he claims to have seen. I obverse trickles of sweat down his left cheek as I feel a cool breeze whip behind my back and I realise he has every right to be scared.