The Shadow On the Wall

When I first saw the shadow on my wall, I turned, expecting someone big and tall— my dad or grandpa—to be standing there. I was alone. Then I could only stare; the shadow had begun to dart around. It vanished suddenly. I heard a sound, a high-pitched scream. I didn’t know it came from me till my big sister called my name and said, “It was a dream. Go back to sleep.” When it returned I felt sure I could keep its visits to myself. It moved from floor to wall to what-not shelves to closet door. It showed itself to no one else. I grew accustomed to its presence, and I knew it posed no threat to me--but then things changed. The shadow morphed into a thing deranged that uttered wicked words just for my ears and injured me with unseen hands. My fears soon forced me to reveal my secrets to my mom and dad. I cried, “What can you do? Please make this awful thing leave me alone!” Just minutes later, Dad was on the phone. When they came to my room, their eyes were red. The words they spoke ran circles in my head. They’d found some “caring friends” who soon would make this wicked shadow that had made me quake with fear be GONE. Soon I was in a place where gentle men in white discussed my “case.” My parents said that in no time at all, I’d have no thoughts of shadows on the wall that speak foul words and have strong, grasping hands. They promised that they’d soon be making plans to take me home—to get on with our lives. I won’t tell them the shadow now wields knives. September 19, 2018, entered in Tania Kitchin's Scary or Spooky Poem Contest