You know, maybe it was the LSD. But still, I'm pretty confident that my grandmother tried to kill me…Several times, in fact. Yeah, that sweet lady in the kitchen humming a joyful tune, making fudge. Yes, her. Oh, and don’t let the “Aunt Josie,” as everyone in the neighborhood called her, fool you. She was a warrior and a rather formable one, too.

We had been hunting shadows in the forest surrounding her house since I was seven. Grand adventures into ‘Shadow Woods’ to protect the imaginary town of Rallington that sat at its center. The shadows were based on the seven deadly sins, a way for my grandmother to help me understand my faith as a child.

“If we don’t protect our borders from these shadows, they will sneak into town and infect people!” She would tell me in her infectiously charismatic voice.

The shadows would appear out of anything at night once they infiltrated the city’s walls. So, we had to keep them in the forest, thus the reason it was dubbed ‘Shadow Woods.’ These shadows, latching onto individuals, would turn them into conduits for the darkness, or, even more dire, they would vanish without a trace, never to be seen or heard from again.

Our job had always been to stop them before that happened. Before any of the shadows could culminate into either a ‘root shadow’ or ‘A mire’ where one is attached and infecting a person over periods of time. If they transformed to full shadow, we considered it a ‘boss’ in our game. The shadows we faced were distorted and twisted silhouettes of the objects they reflected in the moonlight. I had always called them shadows, although they were more like an infantile apparition. A young shadow in its infancy, with its true nature still undeveloped. They were waiting to mire in a host or gain enough power to become a root.

The shadows played like children, coming into form as a curled branch reaching toward your sleeping body, an unexplained dark ripple in your closet, and obviously under the bed. You know that creeping feeling and chill coming up behind you? That was them! Since the town had foolishly torn down the walls in many sections to make way for business and growing neighborhoods, it was easier for these shadows to get in, so we were pretty busy during my youth.

My grandmother had published dozens of books about our adventures and the magic lantern. She found the lantern at about our age, and it had been our only weapon to dissolve these shadows and protect Rallington. Passionately, she immersed all of us kids into this imaginary world, filling our little minds with ghost stories, shadows in the dark, and other things that inevitably lead to some irrational fears later in life.

The recent sightings of shadows were likely just hallucinations, but I felt something substantial about what was happening. Let me be clear: I don't advise this method as a way to "discover your truth," but it inadvertently marked the first step for me. I tended to lean towards a “freight train” approach to life rather than a gentle leap.

From an observer’s view, how I watched my grandma in the kitchen had to be comical. I knew she was lying, but my friends and family were in the house, so this wasn't necessarily the time to talk to her about it. The shadows or maybe hallucinations had become more frequent and were now consistently affecting my dreams. Sufficient enough that resorting to drowning them out with chemicals felt like the most logical and was my current choice.

My two best friends had advised against my last-minute trip and how it wasn't the best idea. Yet, if the bonus was I got to put them in awkward situations, I gained far too much joy from such an act to pass it up. Yeah, it's a dick move, but it was fun for me… and always brought lots of laughs later. Besides, it was Halloween! My friends, cousins, and I were all teenagers now, and this party was always geared toward the younger kids anyway.

With my mom, aunts, and grandma at the helm, the party was always a grand affair. They never skimped on candy or cake. There'd be enough leftover junk food to sustain us teenagers for a week or two. We'd engage in a few mystery gift bag bingo rounds and even try our luck at the cakewalk before setting off on our tradition. “I just added a little extra substance for excitement.” I shrugged to myself with a giggle.

My grandmother was responsible for our family tradition: we didn't partake in Halloween festivities like trick-or-treating. She believed it left us too vulnerable to the shadows. “You will be too exposed and cannot let evil have any kind of foothold!” I can still hear her say to me. After all, her examples of classic horror movies were fashioned, like, why wouldn't a shadow pretend to be a kid in a mask? Or a spooky house a …guise for a lurking monster waiting to eat the little children, leading to the ominous legend of being 'never seen or heard from again.’ A viewpoint that now, in my maturity, seemed utterly absurd.

My grandmother had dozens and dozens of people who called her Aunt Josie, so the house was always packed for Halloween festivities, which at least made us not feel we were missing much. The party had been on the 31st when we were kids, but as we teenagers got older, they moved it to the closest weekend for convenience. But this year, Halloween fell on a weekend.

“Me and Geto Boys went trick-or-treating,” I said out loud as I elbowed Yaj,

“Where did that come from?” Yaj asked.

“I was just thinking, it's cool that Halloween's on the weekend, you know, like the song,” Clearly, I was a lot more entertained by the idea than Yaj was.

Yaj was a strait-laced dude and had been one of the first friends I made as a child when we moved into my house. Yaj was a walking embodiment of darkness, a composition of shadows and mystery. Every garment he wore was black, from his shoes and socks to his pants and shirts—his wardrobe was a sea of darkness. His long, dark hair complemented his attire, further adding to his enigmatic aura. Halloween was the one day he didn't need a costume; his everyday attire, including his long black cloak, sufficed. He would carry his adventure staff and say he was a wizard. He’d have brought his staff to school and kept his wizard status full-time if he could have.

He was a recluse, usually nose, deep in a fantasy novel involving dragons, wizards, and dungeons. But that lifestyle was always trumped by the opportunity of snacks, especially the ones my mom and grandma made. We could get him to skateboard with us, but he would pick playing on his computer or reading over it most of the time. Our whole friend group was skaters, but Yaj was mainly a destination skater, going to and from the bus and occasionally to the store for convenience. He did at least join us at the skate park on the few dry weekends we had during summer.

"Bro, are you high right now?" A boy asked, walking closer. It hadn’t taken long for my older cousin, Shay, to notice my situation.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"What? What are you talking about?" I responded innocently but in a calm voice.

"You know, if anyone finds out, you're dead,” Shay responded, matching my hush.

“Yeah, but by the time it kicks in, we’ll all be leaving,” I said.

We had planned to stay just for a short period and then skate around the neighborhood with our friends — a little mix of skateboarding and trick-or-treating. However, my situation seemed to be escalating faster than I thought.

"Where's Nez?" Shay asked, referring to my other best friend.

"She's in the kitchen with her mom and sister making whatever fudge flavor is on the menu this evening,” I responded. Since grammar school, Nezami’s mother, Melina, had been best friends with my grandmother.

"I can't believe she let you show up like this," Shay continued.

"Show up like what?" I responded. "I'm not jumping up and down on a table naked," I quickly added.

"Yeah? Well, not yet anyway,” he said patronizingly.

Shay was my cousin and a bit of an irregular presence in our group. He resided with my aunt on the opposite end of town and attended a different school, but we always got to see him on the holidays, and occasionally he'd make it to the skate park.

With any family event hosted here, our small, tight-knit group would gather in one of the corners of my grandma's house. We knew the patterns, and most of the adults left us alone, so my being a little out of sorts, as it were… wasn’t a big deal.

Robbie, the last of my friends who were basically family, had arrived, and now I would be surrounded by my people. The entire family had dressed up as Vikings. Despite being the same age, he stood head and shoulders above everyone else. He'd shot up to nearly 6 feet tall before summer concluded. I used to tease him that he looked like a Viking, so the costumes brought an extra touch of delight.

Robbie’s parents, Tora and his wife, Dorothy, were the most peculiar couple in our extended family group. Tora, Melina, and my grandmother had been in a friend group like mine at this age; he was the hoodlum skater who sometimes acted a little too big for his britches but had a good heart. “Seems familiar?” I laughed as if I were sharing a joke with someone. Dorothy, on the other hand, had only been in the town for a few years when she met a college-aged Tora. Moving here to take a rookie job with the local police. Legend has it that one of her first arrests was Tora, caught skating inside the college auditorium, attempting to launch off what he claimed was an ‘epic set of stairs.’ The stage door and stairs led into a long corridor, providing ample room to land safely. He nails the landing and meets the love of his life. It’s a cool story that any skater can see the humorous irony in.

Robbie’s family owned a skateboard and coffee shop called “hulio”, in the shopping district known as PineCrest. The cafe was across from my grandmother and mom’s Bakery and two doors down from Yaj’s mom’s bookstore. All the parents had been extended additions to our already rather large family before any of us were born.

As the hulio family entered from the kitchen, Robbie grabbed and swung Nezami over his shoulders, bringing her to our group gathered in the corner. "Put me down, you big oaf," Nezami protested. "You're messing up my hair!"

Robbie and Nezami found a special connection through our shared experience of adoption, a bond that tied them together. As we got to know Robbie, it became clear that we had come from similar backgrounds. Tora and Dorothy, unable to conceive, had brought Robbie into their family when he was 9 or 10. Similarly, Melina adopted Nez when she was very young, but she had been a pillar of support for Robbie, having had a few years to adjust. “Sometimes having people with familiar experiences can really help the healing and transition process.” My thoughts whispered.

I could feel the warmth now; the body-high part of this experience started heating things up. Literally.

“It was Nez for me.” I heard an echo in my mind completely out of context.

"Consider yourself fortunate I opted for a long dress today," she quipped, delivering a firm elbow to Robbie's gut. Whether clad in her customary baggy skate attire or even a burlap sack, her radiance remained unaltered. She had arrived in her typical skate clothes, a deliberate choice to preserve her costume's cleanliness as she assisted the ladies with the desserts. But now, she had changed into her costume; it was a sight that caught me wildly off guard. She wore a long black dress with no shoulders flared into red fringes and sleeves with tight lace bands ruffling into a black, see-through, sparkly fabric. The upper part of the dress was black and skin-tight until it met her waist, adorned with a red sash. Two large black bows of the same fabric complimented her long lavender hair.

"You're breathtaking," I accidentally blurted out. Luckily, at the same time, everyone else chimed in with a “Wow," saving me from potential embarrassment. But she heard it as we were locked in a gaze from the second Robbie put her down. The cascade of her hair around her face transformed her gray eyes into a shade akin to the lavender of her hair, glistening with a cinematic allure.

“Oh no, this is not good,” I thought.

“Breathe”

At this very moment, I realized a couple of things: One, I was starting to trip out, my body high kicking in, and two, I should not be having these feelings. Feelings that were now trying to explode from behind my tightly pressed lips. "Okay, calm down. We can get through this. We've handled worse," I assured myself silently.

Do you ever feel you are riding the front of the freight train and can’t control it? I thought as my friends chatted around me. For no reason, I recalled being in a school play in a similar fashion last year, and I managed just fine. I had taken a tab of acid and ate a few mushrooms before going on stage. I had pulled it off, but only by the skin of my teeth. Well, and because of these friends, to be fair.

My mind was all over the place, racing in every direction possible. A brief glimpse of black lace flashed in the corner of my eyes, which were probably darting all around like a crazy person. I felt a warm touch on my face, a gentle nudge back to reality.

"Hey, you okay in there?" Nezami asked, using her hand to hold my face steady at her and speaking deliberately slowly.

My whole body was vibrating now, and if I didn’t respond, I was going to kiss her and blow this whole situation open.

"I'm good. Why do you ask?" I replied innocently.

“Yeah, you seem good. I am gonna punch you in the face later," she whispered endearingly as she realized how geeked out I was.

"Well, good luck catching me," I said with as charming of a grin as I could muster.

My grandmother interrupted our little banter with a large tray of her famous fudge. This time, it was a split of peanut butter and chocolate - half and half.

"Make sure you grab a napkin. They're still sticky," Josie advised the group.

"Thanks a bunch, Aunt J!" Robbie grinned. He was the only one who ever shortened her name to just "J." My grandmother beamed at everyone until her gaze settled on Nezami; I sensed the emotions building up within her. Drugs are funny like that.

"Oh my gosh, Nezami, you look breathtaking," Josie exclaimed.

"Thanks, Grandma," she responded with a bit of curtsy. "That's exactly what your grandson said also," Nezami added, winking and playfully pouting her head away from me. My entire body felt like it was on fire. I was undoubtedly embarrassed.

"Well, my grandson would be a liar if he said anything else," my grandma quipped.

Remember that freight train feeling I mentioned? This is where it decided to burst into the room.

"You're a liar, grandma!” I spat out, my brain and mouth not working in sync. But once that started, it didn’t want to stop. It didn’t know how to stop.

“You said that those shadows weren't real. And I can see them. I can fucking see them,” I continued, still not having any choice in what came out. The true fear and chemicals were clashing inside of me.

"Hun, and you need to calm down," my grandma said, leaning closer to me. I swatted her arms away.

"No, you need to calm down and tell me the truth. I need to understand what the fuck is going on!”

“Do not use those words in this house.” She said, upset with me. “I didn't want to be in this fucking house anyway," I responded, getting up and knocking everything out of my way. The once-bustling house had fallen into an awkward silence, and every pair of eyes was fixed on me. However, the frantic part of me seemed strangely indifferent. And so, that’s how I ended up in the forest, at night, alone…