Vision of Shadows

by Vincent Morrone

  “Nothing,” Uncle Mark said, his eyes fixed on Grandpa’s. “Dad, can I talk to you for a moment?” He indicated for Grandpa to follow him out to the backyard.

  Grandpa, who had just poured himself a second cup of coffee, held it up for show. “I’m having coffee here.”

  Uncle Mark held the door open. “You so old and feeble you can’t carry the mug with you?”

  Grandpa nearly smiled at the challenge as he rose from his chair and started for the door, leaving his coffee behind. He stopped at the threshold and motioned for his son to go out first. “After you, Sheriff Blackburn.”

  I waited until they had both left before I looked at Simon. “What was all that about?”

  Simon shrugged. “Grandpa is a little out there. He thinks there are forces at work, beyond the”—Simon made quotation marks with his fingers in the air—“realm of normal understanding. Says it won’t be long before Dad has to choose sides.”

  “Really?” I deadpanned. “Evil forces, huh? Like not enough restaurants with an early bird special? Raising the price of Bengay?”

  “Who’s Ben Gay?” Zack asked.

  “It’s just Grandpa being Grandpa,” Simon explained.

  “You always say that,” Zack complained. “But maybe Gramps is right. Look at what happened to everyone in our family. Gramps says the curse explains everything from our mom to Bristol’s parents.”

  “What curse? What is he talking about?”

  “Shut it, Zack,” Simon commanded. Zack pouted but obeyed. “Bristol, ignore him. I do. You don’t need to be upset by this. It’s all nonsense.” Simon sent his brother an angry stare that Zack didn’t see as he was grabbing his grandfather’s cup of black, unsweetened coffee and taking a sip. I watched as Zack’s eyes registered the shock of the bitter flavor before he spat it back out into Grandpa’s cup. I imagined Grandpa drinking from it again and grinned. It was small of me, but hey, it felt good.

  Without another word, I climbed the steps to my room. Once there, I opened the window that looked out over the backyard. As I had suspected, I could hear my uncle and grandfather’s words from there.

  “I’m telling you, she’s different,” Grandpa said. “Maybe it’s because she’s the first girl in our family in over fifty years, but she’s different. I can feel it.”

  “I don’t want to hear it, Dad,” Uncle Mark responded. “And I don’t want Bristol to hear it either.”

  “You want me to let her be unprepared?” Grandpa asked. “I thought you cared about her. Besides, isn’t it your job to serve and protect?”

  “Now you want me to be sheriff of this town? You’ve never had much use for my badge before.”

  “Ha!” Grandpa grumbled. “What’s the point of having one if you don’t use it to help your own? I still haven’t forgotten you locked up your cousin Stan. And for what?”

  “For drunk and disorderly,” Uncle Mark answered. “And for threatening Broderick and Lucas McKnight with a pool stick. And if I hadn’t gotten there when I did, it could have been worse. You were of no help, as I recall.”

  “You recall incorrectly,” Grandpa said. “I handed him the pool stick, didn’t I?”

  There was a moment of silence. I pictured Uncle Mark shaking his head.

  “Look, I’m just trying to figure that girl out,” Grandpa continued. “There is something about her. You know it, don’t you?” Another pause and then, “Don’t you, son?”

  “I’m not doing this, Dad,” Uncle Mark said. “It doesn’t matter. She’s my niece, your granddaughter. She watched her parents get killed for crying out loud. Can you forget about your little supernatural war for a bit and concentrate on helping her heal? Make her feel at home.”

  “This is her home,” Grandpa responded. “Her parents never should have taken her away. Blackburns belong here in Spirit.”

  “Give her a break, will you? She just got here. There’s plenty of time for her to become familiar with your particular take on things, but give her a little room to breathe. Let the poor girl bury her mother and father in peace.”

  A door slammed. I had no idea what Grandpa was talking about. I looked over to Ricky, but as usual, he had nothing to say.

  * * * *

  I know in the future I’ll never be able to talk much about my parents’ funeral. Not that I expect the memory will be so painful I won’t be able to tell the tale. I’m just pretty sure I won’t remember it at all.

  What I do remember is waiting for my parents to appear to me. Once again, I was disappointed. I was overcome with a feeling of being abandoned. But through it all, Uncle Mark held me, making me realize I wasn’t alone. When it was over, I tried my best not to be overwhelmed by tears. I could feel it all inside, but I wasn’t ready to let it out. Not yet.

  When the burial was over, everyone began to leave to meet at Grandpa’s lodge for food, drink, and whatever else they served at one of those things. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a cookbook for the grieving.

  Soon it was just the five of us left by the gravesite: my uncle, cousins, Grandpa, and me. Uncle Mark herded everyone far enough away to give me a little privacy. I guess when you bury someone you love, it’s normal to take a last moment to talk to them. I just hoped they decided to answer me back.

  “Hey, Mom, Dad. It’s me. Bristol,” I started lamely. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on. Why haven’t I seen you? Why can’t I talk to you? I wish you would give me a sign. Or for that matter, just come say hello. I know it can be done. Guys? Hello?”

  I waited.

  “Crap,” I muttered. “Sorry. Bad language. I know how you hated that, Mom. Dad, not so much. I suppose I should try and watch it. I’ve got a couple of young guys in the house now. They seem nice, by the way,” I added. “I’ve decided I like my uncle and my cousins. And even their dogs. Jury’s still out on Grandpa. Just thought I’d let you know.

  “I love you, Mom and Dad,” I finally said. “Bye.”

  It took far less effort than I thought to walk away. My parents weren’t here. The dead don’t hang out in places like this. So why should I? If my parents wanted to find me, they knew where to look.

  I didn’t know what was worse, the idea of saying goodbye or the realization that my mother and father couldn’t be bothered with me even now. There was a cold, emptiness that gnawed at my heart, as I questioned something that no child ever should. Did my parents ever love me?

  I knew I needed to cry. I could feel it building within me. I felt like everyone was watching me, waiting for the dam to break, but I was still too angry at Mom and Dad to cry for them. I felt I should be overwhelmed with grief, but there was this great big ball of emptiness inside. Where were they? Did they not love me enough to even stop by one last time and say goodbye? Was I that unlovable?

  But when I looked into the faces of my new family, all I could see was love. I could only wonder how long it would last.

  “Dad,” Zack said. “Can we stop and see Mom before we go?”

  My uncle searched my face. “You okay with that?”

  I nodded. I was in no hurry to get to the lodge.

  We only needed to walk a few feet away. I stared down at a grave marker, shaped like a giant heart, and read the words engraved on the face.

  Eve Blackburn

  Mother, wife, best friend

  We carry you in our hearts, every day

  She was only in her mid-thirties when she died. I could feel the emotion rolling off of my new family. Each of them felt the stab of loss in their own way. I watched them as they each stepped forward and said something private. Zack looked the most lost out of all of them.

  I approached him and put my arm around his tiny shoulders. “Hey, kiddo. You okay?”

  He sniffed and nodded. “I just wish I could remember what she sounded like.”

  Uncle Mark took his son’s hand and drew him closer. “We have some videos at home. We’ll have to dig ’em out.”

  “You know, Zack,” Simon chimed in. “You and her
have a lot in common. You look like her the most. And sound like her, too.”

  Stepping back a bit to give them their space as they had for me, I watched Uncle Mark put one arm over each son. Both boys leaned against him. It was both sad and beautiful.

  Then I felt it; a cold, dark stab of pain and despair. Guilt beyond anything I’ve ever felt before. Agony turned inward. I nearly fell from the weight of it.

  It wasn’t coming from my family. Slowly I turned, trying to find the person in such despair. It wasn’t hard. The remorse and shame were like a beacon. It only took me a moment to focus in on the source.

  He was standing only about a dozen feet away, but his face was hidden in shadow. Staring down at a grave, his body was perfectly still despite the storm of emotions that welled up within him. Anyone else who looked at him would see nothing but the silhouette of a teenage boy, paying his respects to some dearly departed soul.

  I took a step toward him but someone grabbed my arm. It was Grandpa. “Don’t go there,” he whispered. “That boy ain’t nothing but trouble.”

  I could hear the hatred in his voice, but despite my grandfather’s warning, I wanted to know more about him. I glanced back and the boy finally looked up. My chest tightened as our eyes met.

  It was him. The same boy I’d seen a thousand times in a thousand dreams.

  Somewhere in the distance there was a low hissing sound that made my skin crawl, like fingernails scraping down a chalkboard.

  Then he turned and quickly walked away. A very big part of me felt there may be a chance my grandfather was right.

  But I knew it didn’t matter. Our lives were intertwined somehow. No matter what, it wouldn’t be long before we were face to face again.

  I could only hope I fared better than whoever’s grave he was visiting. As I allowed Grandpa to pull me back to my family, I couldn’t help but notice the flowers the boy left at the gravesite. They were pink tulips.

  Pink tulips were my favorite.

  So, I finally saw the boy from my visions who is supposed to kill me, and what was he doing? Standing over a grave feeling guilty as all hell. And what goes through my mind? That he was even hotter in person than in my dreams. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, I needed help.

  Chapter Four

  Oops, You Weren’t Supposed To See That

  It didn’t surprise me that there were no ghosts in the cemetery. After all, the dead linger because they can’t let go of someone or something, or because they are afraid to move on. Why hang out at a gravesite? Where’s the fun in that?

  So, if you need a moment to talk to your late wife or to speak with your dearly departed mother, there really is no reason to make the trip down to the graveyard. Save the gas. You’re better off going to a place they felt tied to, like their place of business or their home. Or for those who may have passed while in their teen years: high school.

  Don’t ask me why, but I have yet to visit a school that didn’t have at least a few ghosts roaming the halls. Student or teacher, there’s always some of the dead to be found on school grounds. Kind of brings new meaning to the term school spirit, huh?

  With that in mind, I arrived for my first day at my new school unafraid of seeing these ghosts. After all, I’d never had any reason to fear the dead.

  Nevertheless, I also happened to be scared out of my friggin’ mind. It’s high school! That morning, my sweet, caring uncle said I’d learn to fit in in no time. There could be no possible explanation for that sentence other than the fact he was insane. I didn’t do fitting in.

  I talked to ghosts. I had visions. I didn’t hang out and chill.

  I’ve navigated through school and life overall by following three simple rules: Never tell anyone my secret, don’t let anyone get close enough to guess my secret, and always trust my instincts.

  Sometimes I got these feelings out of nowhere to do or not do something. They didn’t come often, but when they did, they were usually worth heeding. I got one of those feelings when I approached the intersection of the hallway, which is why I stopped.

  There was a girl walking right next to me. She was really pretty. Pretty in that perfect way that makes you want to puke. She had blond hair, blue eyes, was perky and thin, and wore a blouse that proudly displayed her cleavage. From the corner of my eye, I noticed she was looking me over, checking out the new girl. I could see her trying to assess me as a threat. This wasn’t a supernatural thing. Just a teen girl thing. This girl was going to be a major pain. And she may have wondered for a moment why I stopped where I was, but she continued on her way as if I wasn’t worth the time.

  As she started to round the corner, she was hit face first with a great, big ball of zaniness.

  At least that was the only way I could think to describe the colorful girl who came careening around the corner, her frizzy hair flying in all directions, as she slammed into Ms. Pretty, Perfect, and Perky. I watched in both horror and amusement as the two of them bounced off each other and fell to the floor with a thump that echoed through the hallway.

  Laughter exploded as the two girls tried to pry their way free of one another. Princess P—my new name for the blonde—was instantly livid. She let loose on the other girl, using words that would make a trucker blush.

  I took a better look at the other girl. She was dark-skinned, a little short, and a little chubby. She wore a bright orange top with mint green stretchy pants. Her eyeglasses were also orange and green. To be honest, her outfit was so loud I was surprised I could hear the blonde girl scream and curse.

  “What is wrong with you?” Princess P yelled as she stood. “You knocked right into me! Don’t you watch where you’re going? And why are you picking up your things? What about my stuff?” With flaring but still perfect nostrils, she swiped out her hand and knocked whatever books and papers the other girl had managed to get together back down to the floor. I watched in astonishment as papers floated gently in all directions.

  “I’m sorry,” the frizzy-haired girl muttered. “I didn’t see you, Pricilla. I was just trying to get to class on time.”

  Pricilla—oh, what a perfect name for her; it even started with a P—shot the other girl a look of loathing, as if someone had just told the Princess that she was now required to wipe her own ass or something.

  “Maggie, you imbecile,” Pricilla said. “You knocked me down. You should be shot.” Maggie pushed herself upright. Then with one quick motion, Priscilla tripped Maggie back to the ground. “God, you’re pathetic.”

  The wise course of action would be to bypass this little display and make my way to my first class. I was fairly certain getting involved in this situation would be against my better judgment. I preferred to stay under the radar. This wouldn’t be under the radar. In fact, this would be right in the middle of the radar.

  But looking down at this girl named Maggie with her slightly chubby frame and her wild frizzy hair that was sticking out in all directions as she failed about, trying to regain any dignity she could; the wisdom of staying out of it just didn’t seem to matter.

  I walked over to Maggie and extended my hand to her. When she looked up at me, her eyes were filled with tears and gratitude. As I pulled her up, I could sense her thankfulness. She looked as if she might throw herself down at my feet for such a simple act of courtesy.

  I looked over Maggie’s shoulder to see a boy in a Metallica T-shirt with long, dirty blond hair and ripped faded blue jeans. “Yo,” he called. “Watch out behind you, dudette!” I didn’t spare a moment wondering what I was watching out for. I simply grabbed Maggie and pulled both of us to the side.

  I felt Pricilla brush by and trip as I hadn’t quite moved my foot quickly enough. She hit the floor with a loud smack that once again reverberated through the school, followed by laughter all around. The teen in the Metallica shirt pumped his fist.

  Pricilla’s mouth formed a perfect O as she pushed to her knees and glared at me. “You.” She pointed at me. “You did that on purpose!”

  “Did wh
at? Move out of the way so you couldn’t knock me on my ass? Yeah, I did, but seeing you fall on yours wasn’t planned, just a bonus.”

  “Shut up and help me up,” Princess P demanded.

  “What, so you can pull me down?” I said as Maggie moved to offer a hand to Pricilla. I yanked her back with a sigh, knowing that some people just don’t learn.

  Pricilla looked over to the side, batted her lashes, and a pair of hormone-driven teenage boys came to her rescue. Once she was vertical again, she patted their cheeks and then pointed to the floor for her things. The two boys obediently went to work. I couldn’t help but wonder if she planned on throwing a dog biscuit their way when they were done.

  Pricilla turned on me, her pretty eyes ablaze in anger. “You must be the new girl. Brianna…”

  “Bristol,” I corrected.

  “Whatever.” Pricilla shrugged. “Bristol Blackburn, of the Blackburn clan. Well, let me welcome you back to Spirit. Personally, I’ve never had much use for Blackburns. I prefer the McKnights.”

  “Whatever,” I said. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Uh-huh,” Pricilla said, giving me one last look up and down. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”

  “Yeah, me too,” I said. “Can’t hardly wait. Any idea how to get to…” I looked at my schedule. “Mr. Nataldo’s history class?”

  “Sure.” Pricilla smiled sweetly. “Down the hall to the right.” She pointed out the way with a perfectly manicured nail.

  “Thanks.” I took off down the hall, making sure to turn left.

  Maggie was by my side in an instant; the Metallica kid fell in step as well. “Hey, I’ve got Nataldo now,” Maggie said. “I can take you. If that’s all right?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” I asked.

  “Great!” She beamed. “Hey, how did you know Pricilla told you the wrong direction?”

  I stopped in my tracks and stared at her. The Metallica kid shook his head. “How could I not?”

  Maggie thought about it a moment. “Right. I’m a dummy. Okay. By the way, Maggie Sheppard,” she said as she stuck out her hand and flashed what I thought was a very pretty smile.