HMC's Short Stories

Hilary's Shadow

“No students are to leave the classroom until they’ve been excused by the teacher.” A scarecrow-like Principal droned at the front of Brighton’s grand hall and no one was listening. Only so much filled a young girl’s head before she daydreamed of other things and Hilary was no exception.

A breath on her neck … Hilary swatted the air.  The girl wedged beside her frowned. A raucous laugh filled the room.  It bounced off the walls and reverberated.  Hilary stiffened.  THAT was loud.  They were never that loud.  Getting braver, they were.

“Hiiillllaaaryyy.”

Breath held, Hilary turned to the back of the grand hall to catch them, but there was nothing there.  She noticed a small door under the honors board, just large enough to store a few things.  It creaked open and sat ajar.  Hilary watched the dark within and waited for something to poke its ghastly little head through.  Nothing did.

The sound of laughter boomed again and this time Hilary jumped.   She looked back at Principal Scarecrow and held her eyes shut tight.

This was why no one liked her. This was why her life was such a disaster.

Hilary lay stiff on the boarding room bed while the other girls slept—a symphony of snores.

“Hilary.” The whisper was by her ear and the familiar breath iced down her neck.

She sat up, sighed, and slid her feet into her bunny slippers.  What am I doing?  Perhaps she felt safer in a building full people, or perhaps she wanted to see her invisible visitors, for once.  She was tired of throwing a cover over her head.

“Come now,” the jester called. He wasn’t so scary. Yes, there was an undercurrent of crazy, but wasn’t there always?

She followed his voice through the corridors, to the grand hall and that tiny door. She knelt and peered inside and it smelled of wood and dust. Laughter resounded from deep within.  The floor was hard on her knees. She crawled through and could soon stand.  Running a hand along a wall, she twisted, navigating the unseen corners of the cupboard maze.  There was no turning back now. Well, there was, but what person in their right mind could bear the wonder?

The temperature dropped and she blew frosty white. On the last bend, the world opened up onto the edge of a night sky—a million stars winked in the black, lights shone out of windows and Hilary stared at the incredibleness of it all.  A castle stood in the distance. A castle…in a cupboard.

She was losing it.

Jutting stakes lined the walls and ruined arcs curved above, tangled in creepers and dying vines.

“Where are yoooooooooou?” The girl’s voice now. The young one, she called, and Hilary chased a trail of auburn hair through creaking doors.  There were dusty floors and holes in the ceiling. She hadn’t seen the girl before—only heard her. The laughter turned to screaming.

Hilary stopped, heart thumping, fingers prickling, little hairs on end—the sound of the monster.

He was coming. The familiar creaking and cracking of bones. Of course he’d be here. She’d known it.

This time she’d look upon her tormentor, not sure she wanted to.  A shadow grew from the floor and spread itself up the walls—a large shapeless form creeping above her.  Blood spurt forth and onto Hilary. She ran.

The Shadow gave chase and roared—a sound like no other—it screamed an awful shredding of a scream, and the halls before Hilary elongated.  Chancing a look behind, the thing followed and it came fast.  Black muck showered down from the ceiling.

Her legs ached from the cold in her bones.  The shadow was above her and coming, a wicked hand of death, to strangle her, to break her into pieces and she’d be here forever.  She could feel its wanting. Hands with long fingers pulled at her hair.

The smell! The smell of rotting wood. 

Hilary looked down at the blood stains that had spurted from it.  It blended into her dark sweater.  Someone’s blood. Hilary ran and the rock rumbled and closed, leaving her in darkness and quiet.  She waited for her eyes to adjust. The cracking came again.  She broke into a run.

This time, the sound was more ferocious than before.  The ground shook and she felt the thing coming.  Hilary felt the shadow claw her mind as she raced. She ran into walls and launched off them.

It could hold her here.  It wanted to.

A ragged breath came from behind, with tiny footfalls.  She could just make out a little white face, as the girl caught up and ran for her life.  Terror stricken, they fought to escape the blackened monster, and Hilary urged the girl forward.  They ran on.  A hopeful light shone ahead.

Almost there.

Hilary watched spidery fingers ignore her and grab the child instead.  The shadow was so fast; she only caught the edge of the girl’s dress.  The satin slipped from her hand.  The child was pulled back into the darkness and devoured.  There was a shrieking and bawling so frightful. Liquid sprayed all around.

She was down, crawling, then out in the hall. Breathless, Hilary turned to face an amused assembly of students.  They glared at her.  It was morning.  It was school time.

She stood awkward and disheveled in her hoodie, pajama pants and bunny slippers, covered in blood and having just escaped a real nightmare.  Some of the proper girls of Brighton laughed at her.  Some sat, mouths gaping.  Some frowned and shook their heads at the disaster that was Hilary.

Her stomach roiled.

“Young lady!” One of the teachers jumped out of his seat. “What on earth are you doing in the vacuum cupboard?”