A Shadow in the Woods

There’s something about the crunch of leaves under my boots that reminds me of death. Walking down an unlit path to get back to my house, I’m regaled with that feeling with every passing step as I travel through the park. A shortcut between my home and a friend’s Halloween party. This is the first in a long time that I have taken this route, because I don’t usually mind the extra time walking and you never know who you can bump into in the woods.

I see a lamppost up ahead, providing a dim light of oasis in an otherwise desert of darkness. My footsteps become more frequent against the pavement and the crunch of the leaves. I pass under the lamppost and feel the temporary serenity of protection from the light around me. It’s tempting to stop and bask in it, but this will only delay the long walk home to get to my secure location. I hear faint crunches in the dark behind me and I subtly turn my head without bringing too much attention to the fact that I’m skittish. I’m not easily spooked, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have the commonsense reaction of feeling vulnerable when walking alone at night on a path surrounded by trees. Nothing but the darkness and the faint silhouette of the oak trees all around me. It’s a full moon tonight, but that does little good against the thick canopy of the park I, for some inexplicable reason, have decided to jaunt through on this October night.

My pace quickens again after I pass through the halo of light and after 100 feet, I look back at the glowing light to see if there is another traveler behind me or if it’s just the autumn night playing tricks on me. Again, nothing. Relieved, my feet return to my normal pace and my mind is soothed. Another crunch. I jerk my head back, unable to play it cool as I had before and again see nothing. My heart is racing and my steps begin to match it. There’s another lamppost a few hundred feet in front of me, which temporarily reduces my anxiety. As I pass under it, my feeling of oasis has transitioned to a fear of being under a spotlight for all the darkness to see, with the light blinding me to all that the woods have to offer. A shiver runs up my spine and settles on top of my head. I look back at the light after passing another hundred feet, and I see it. A shadow darts across the halo of light as quickly as an ember flying away from a bonfire. Questions arise in my head; did I really see that or am I just letting the season get the best of me? Regardless, I begin to think about how fast I can get home without going into a full sprint. My hands instinctively go into my coat pockets and my legs move as fast as they can while always having one foot on the ground. One last bend before I get to the clearing and can escape to my modest home that now seems like a fortress I desperately need to me safe.

I see the streetlights through the trees and I know that home is just within reach, but I’m almost paralyzed by the approaching sound of crunching behind me. The steps are quicker than mine and close enough so that I can hear them even if they don’t step on the dead leaves on the path. I get through the woods and onto the street and without thinking my walk turns into a run as I go up my sidewalk, up my steps, fumbling with my keys as I open my front door and quickly shut it behind me and slide the deadbolt into the locked position. True Oasis. I put my back against the closed door and exhale, but before I can draw another breath I turn around and look out the spyhole. It wasn’t tricks and it wasn’t the season. A shadow in the shape of a person steps out of the woods and is sauntering towards my sidewalk. “Maybe it was someone who left the party just after me and lives near me,” I tell myself, knowing it’s a comforting lie. “Maybe it’s someone who was lost in the woods without a light and just followed someone who looked like they knew where they were going,” telling myself another lie.

I watch with horror as the shadow stops briefly in front of my house and begins to walk even more slowly up my sidewalk, following the steps I had taken not thirty seconds earlier. I hold my breath fearing that the shadow can hear me on the other side of the door, and I can hear my heart pounding on the inside of my chest. As the shadow walks up the steps it pauses at the top. The locked door dividing us now feels as thin as paper and I weigh the consequences of sliding my couch in front of the door as a reinforcement versus the idea of creating that much noise. I remain still and keep my eye fixed on the spyhole. It seems paralysis made the decision for me. The shadow takes three steps closer to my front door and it no longer remains a shadow, but what I see makes me desperately wish it maintained the mystery the shadow provied. As it comes into the dull glow of the full moon I can see its eyes, or rather lack thereof. Where its eyes are is just smooth, pale skin, as though the eyelids had fused together. As I scan down the flat nose and thin lips of the shadow’s face, I see protruding downwards from its mouth are two white points. Teeth. Two abnormally long canines protruding from what is otherwise a demonic looking shadow on my front steps. My heart stops and I can feel a burst of air come from my mouth.

“A fucking vampire?!” I say to myself. “This is just a sick joke from someone at the party.” Again, lies I tell myself. I want to run away but my eye is magnetized to the spyhole. As I see the shadow inquisitively look around my porch I glance at the end of my sidewalk. I look past it at first, but as my eyes focus I see a second shadow standing there and begin to slowly walk up the sidewalk. My body repulses internally but my head doesn’t move, and my eye stays fixed on the shadows.

At the top of the steps, the second shadow says in a low mumble “In there?”

“Yes, not two minutes ago,” replied my stalker in the woods.

“Good, this shouldn’t be too hard at all. Nice work,” replied the newcomer, who seemed to be in charge.

I’m finally able to turn around and my head is swimming. My first thought is the only one I can manage as I try to formulate a plan. “Do I have a crucifix? What do I have that can be fashioned as a stake?” What can I say… I’m a product of the horror movies and scary stories I grew up on, never expecting that it would ever teach something useful. I run to my bedroom and open a trunk at the foot of my bed. Digging through some knickknacks I find it, a crucifix that had been used at my grandma’s funeral that my parents gave to me, hoping it would spark some sort of new engagement with the church I had lost interest in many years ago. I break off a leg of a chair at my kitchen table and, while it doesn’t look like they do in the movies, I’ve fashioned a wood stake that will certainly be good enough for my purposes.

Returning to my front door I steal one last look out of the spyhole and see one shadowy figure still on my porch. Where the other one went, I couldn’t say, but I’ll take it as a good sign and feel some relief. I muster as much of my courage as the situation allows and I slowly, slowly, slide the deadbolt until the door is unlocked. Even more slowly, I turn the handle until there is nothing between me and the shadow except the door loose on its hinges. I count to three in my head and fling the door open. With my right hand, I wildly swing the chair leg in a downward motion, while my left holds the crucifix exactly how I’ve seen it done it all the movies. After three swings of the stake hitting nothing but air I realize there’s nothing on my front porch. Adrenaline coursing through my veins I step forward to the top of the stars, clutching the crucifix so hard I can feel it puncturing my skin. Nothing. Breath escapes me but I can’t breath in. I turn around and calmly walk back inside and close my door. Resting my back against my front door, I remember how to breath. With my mind racing, I return to the spyhole. “I can wait here all night” I say out loud, knowing that I almost certainly won’t. Seconds crawl by but they feel like hours as I finally start to relax. I slide the deadbolt back into the locked position and start to feel sane again. The deadbolt clicks in the locked position and the tension is leaving my body.

As I begin to remove my eye from the spyhole, I feel two long teeth sink into my neck just below my ear.

Credit: Owen Wirth