The Night of Long Shadows

Everything that ever happened to them happened only in the house. They were young enough to focus on the simple magic of the house, the deep shadows within the house, the secret rooms, the strange sounds that crept up through the floorboards. They watched as the light flickered, distending, pushing them into a haunting, thought-like sequence that was unknown, yet unavoidable. Their untainted fears had started from some imagination, from a lucid memory of fiction and fear. Their parents told them stories at night, and then they dreamed intensely, starting from where the stories had left off, now exchanged for the bright and weird lands of their sleep. It was hard to tell a dream from the real thing to them.

Annabelle was six and Marcos was eight. They lived in a house with May, their mother. Everything seemed to have been created and made just for them. But why was the house so big? Why did the house undulate in the extremes, in a cold and singing riddle that held no boundaries to them? They played games together under the amenable roof, under the thaw of their own susceptible lives. They had many toys and stuffed animals, and they were happy to behave in the cogent and rapid whateverness of their tiny hearts. The house was all that they knew. No world beyond was even imagined.

Then, the lights began to flicker, the slow sounds crept through the floor. The shadows became long and heavy, seeming to breathe right on the back of their necks! They were afraid, running to May, who was always comforting. May checked their closets, under their beds. Nothing was ever found in these dark and scary places. When Annabelle and Marcos went to sleep, the deepness mended, but only momentarily. Whatever it was had waited until May had gone to sleep, then it came right back out! Annabelle screamed, which in effect, made Marcos scream as well. May came back in and stayed with them for the rest of the long night.

The next morning, Annabelle asked her brother, "What do you think made that noise?" Her eyes were enlarged, percolating wildly. Marcos, at first, paid his sister no mind, only building a new rocket with his Legos. Annabelle touched him on his shoulder and he dropped a brick. "Oh," Marcos said. "What do you think made those sounds?" Annabelle said again. "Nothing yet," Marcos said. "But then why does it always come back?" Annabelle said. "Maybe to play," Marcos said. "But they are mine!" Annabelle got really defensive when one was to talk about playing with her toys. She did not even like her own brother touching her toys, molding them, greasing them up with his sticky fingers. Marcos did not care much for her toys. He was happy with his Legos and his Transformers. Sometimes, he wouldn't even mind sharing and he said, "I don't mind sharing. Mom says I have to." "Not with the monsters!" Annabelle said alarmingly. "What monsters?" "From bedtime!" Annabelle was starting to get exasperated with her older brother, and she felt a small quaking thing starting up in her which always made her a bad girl. She looked at her brother's rocket and wanted to step on it, throw it out the window, but then she had a crazier idea and imagined the rocket actually taking off into outer space, and they would never see the rocket again, and this made her sad for some reason. Annabelle went to her room, looking for interesting ordinary things to turn into small and pleasant magical things. She wanted to keep the day safe and full of light because she knew that the night would come again. She was starting to recognize these obligatory patterns.

It was near October, and the nights came to them quickly. The house was soon illuminated, but the artificial brightness had little effect in their concerning minds. May was in the kitchen, cooking dinner and humming softly. Her hums were always comforting to them like she was trying to wash away any dark spirits with her pleasant, bird-like voice. Annabelle stayed near the kitchen, near May's ameliorating stir. Marcos was looking out the window, at the cold and wavering dark trees that seemed to boogie under the eon of starlight. An intricate blue had settled amongst the hills in the near distance, and the winds were very strong, causing many creaking sounds to come through the walls, but Marcos knew that these sounds were from the winds, the trees, and secretly, he knew that that was what those sounds in the night really were. He was sad at this realization, for he really wanted to believe that there were monsters and other allurements in the house, hopping around and making great festivities, causing up quite a stir, indeed. He wanted to share his toys with them, maybe even sneak one of them one of his sister's dolls (if the monsters turned out to be girl monsters). But now, he just wanted the darkness outside, and he was sad and decided to make up his own sounds in the night. He wondered how he could stretch the shadows and make them come alive. He wanted to scare his sister, but not in the usual sense of scaring someone; he wanted the scare to be alive and heated. He wanted the trees to make clawing sounds under her bed; he wanted the winds to open her closet; he wanted the long shadows to enrapture her completely, in her bed, wrapped in a quixotic beauty, to hold her tight and whisper only good things, but in a slithery voice: we are the naturalistic and invisible power, we are things you can't see outside at night, we are long and tempting and hold many secret things under the ephemeral sketch of the trees. Marcos was giddy with new ideas.

After dinner, they were put to bed, whispered with love and pleasant send-offs. A minute or two passed. Marcos knew that his sister was still awake because he could hear her breathing. Marcos turned to her and said, "Are you waiting for the monsters?" "Shut up! Don't even say that! Why, can they hear us?" Outside, the trembling of the winds has settled. All was quiet as a mouse. Their night light made everything a glowing, fuzzy green. Nothing would bother them tonight. Marcos wanted the winds to make more noise, to stir the spirits, the monsters, even as he knew there was no such thing. He had to keep the arcane idea alive, if only for his sister. Marcos stood up and went and turned off their night light. "What are you doing? Don't!" Annabelle quickly shrieked, half-hiding under her blanket. Their room was swallowed up in darkness. "No!" Annabelle screeched to her brother. Then, May came in and turned on the light and all was lost. May put Marcos back in bed and soothed Annabelle. Once May left, Annabelle took to saying to her brother, "You wanted the monsters to come. You wanted them to come!" "Liar!" "Shut up!" "No!" "I hate you!" "So!"

And then sleep came to them and they forgot their unique troubles; they were restarted with a pattern of soft dreams, colorful dreams, and for a moment, they were as a shadow, long and kaleidoscopic. They belonged in dreams and dreamt more and more as the long nights lingered into that slow and magical realm.

Weeks went by. Marcos was by himself (his sister in the bath with May), playing with his toys. He looked up and saw one of his toy trucks moving by itself. There was no darkness, for it was almost noon. No darkness, but the long shadows were still there, with him.