But as I walked down the sidewalk tonight, I couldn’t help but cower at the trees. The stark shadows made them look unreal, floating against the black sky. Like a painting just real enough to not notice at first glance, but any cat or bird would attack and run away in fear. And I would’ve done the same. But I’m not a cat or a bird.

I used to be able to just leave.

I remembered sitting in the backyard at my old house, playing in the dirt with a stick. Despite the soon-to-be gloomy weather, I stayed outside for hours looking into the forest. The edge of it twisting into a cave, with all of the broken, hanging branches, vines, and leaves tangling into a giant, shadowy house. It was old and weathered, with two stories of moss-framed windows, and ripped curtains and veils strewn all over it. It was so black and misty, it could’ve been made of smoke. The front door scared me the most. Not because of who could walk out, but because of how barren I figured the inside of the house was.

What if I walked in there? I thought, shivering.

It scared me everytime I imagined it, but I kept doing it. Because it was fun. I’d frown, smile, frown, smile, and repeat for an entire evening. And my dad never saw it, even with all of those little details I gave him. It made it easy for me to just go inside.

That memory had faded until the storm approached Caedispear, just like before.

So now I’ll be walking down the street, in the soaking rain. But it didn’t bother me at all until I thought about the last time I heard the same exact storm, with the same purple flash in the clouds. The smell of mist and… candles?

Then the thunder bellowed in the sky.

The few candles and the small candles warmed the classroom from a ruined recess. The chalkboard had been erased except for the date. All the desks were pushed against the wall with the stacks of floppy picture books and Scholastic book fair catalogs. I made a nest there, wrapped in my black blanket. The room was spacious enough for no one to notice.

Our teacher, youthful while pushing forty, sat on a plastic crate and held up a small microphone at the end of her necklace. She clicked a button on it, and her voice was silent as a beetle.

"Does anyone want to read this page?" she asked the twenty kids snuggled up on the carpet.

"I will!" A kid with fluffy black hair and a confident smile raised his hand. I'd seen him before, but never heard his voice. His baggy, tan T-shirt looked dirtied from recess.

The teacher sat on the carpet while he patted the pillow on the crate.

He lowered his voice to match the silent cackling of the candle and raindrops on the window. "This isn't just any story. Not like the one Nikki or Mandy told. Mines is about that creepy scarecrow we saw before.”

"From the pumpkin patch?" a girl asked.

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"Yes. But did you know he sneaks into classrooms? On days like these? The days that look like nights?"

I think he meant "thunderstorms". Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been as creepy as the “shadow house”.

I turned a page in the book I was reading: Nickel Moon over Capsule Bay. On the cover was a pretty lighthouse, with rocks and a moon behind it.

I wish I snuggled up with the others. I thought I heard knocking in the cabinets.

"He talks to you, feeds you corn, makes you laugh, but you don't see him until he..."

Roar! the thunder went.

"Eats you alive!"

I jumped and banged my elbow against the edge of the desk. The page tore where the rest of them stayed intact. The squeaking metal from the desk's legs turned everyone's heads. Including him. I looked away.

"Darien? Honey? Can you tell the next story?" the teacher waved me over.

"No thank you..."

"What'd he say?" She asked one of the kids closer to the edge of the carpet.

The boy with black hair appeared in front of me. "I'll read it for you!" He held out his hand.

"Why?"

He didn't answer me for some reason. My picture book laid open for the duration of class. The storm persisted. The hallway outside the classroom was cherry and black; the only light being the glowing jack-o-lanterns left over from Halloween. It was almost Thanksgiving. I froze standing in the doorway, but I had to. I had to wait for the other kids to peel their ears away from the story. I learned what his name was; the one who told the story. Mitchell. Like Mitchell Musso; that was the only other Mitchell I knew of.

"Sorry I took so long, Darien." He picked up his book bag and stood by the door.

"It's okay..." I smiled.

"What's wrong?"

I took another look at it. No lights. But there were no lights anywhere. I could freely look the other kids in the eye, and speak without stuttering. I could listen and enjoy Ms. Osborne's stories without being scared. The hallway didn't seem haunted anymore. It felt more like a cozy hug.

"Darien, Mitchell, make sure you tell Ms. Maya I let you go down." Osborne patted my back.

"We will," he said.

"And Darien? Next time, you can wear one of these." She held the small microphone around her neck. "It'll make you louder."

I could only raise an eyebrow at it. How would it make me louder?

Mitchell took my hand and led me down the dim, wide hallway. The widest space was where the front doors stood. Rain polished the small windows like an extra glass layer.

The day waned soon after that. Mitchell and I read some books together on the floor. It seemed like he had a hard time saying some of the words. Mitchell stashed a few books in his bookbag, which was covered in random keychains of cartoon monsters. I liked it so much, I wanted my own book to be in there—the one I was reading before. I gave it to him, and he said he wanted us to read it together.

An hour of reading later, the rain outside turned into a lullaby, and I fell asleep.

If only it were that easy, nowadays.

I had to follow a strict path through the empty streets. Though the fear was more paralyzing then, it was easier for it to fade, and to learn how irrational it was. Even the fears that linger even now, I admire how brave I used to be. But now everything is scary—the dark corner of the room, natural ambience from the apartment. Even the most calming dreams I have now are scarier than the worst nightmares I had as a kid.

What I believe now will be with me forever, even if my heart doesn’t want it to be.