Shadows

Shadows

By Andy Pearson © 2025

Click-clack.

Tick.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Melanie Longstreet heard her high heels tapping out an even rhythm on the sidewalk, followed by the slight answering tick of an echo rebounding off the brick buildings across the street. The city's darkness was broken only by evenly spaced pools of light, each followed by a deep void. Budget cuts extinguished every other streetlight; the voids were twice as large as the pools.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Melanie felt each transition from light to dark. Each step from visible to invisible felt like stepping into cold water. It shocked her. It slowed her pace. Maybe she’d stayed too long at the party, but the eighties cover band had been surprisingly good, and the finger food, especially the wings from Bruno’s, had been too good to pass up.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Click-clack.

Tick.

And getting to know Charles or Charley to his friends. He’d actually said that: “Charley, to my friends, and I hope we can become friends.” A cheesy line, but he’d pulled it off. Maybe it was the honest grin that accompanied it, or the twinkle in his eye. It had worked on her.

For an accountant, Charley could dance. And they had danced. Each dance drawing them closer. She wondered what else he might do better than the stereotypical accountant. The thought made her giggle.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Stepping into the next pool of illumination, she felt herself relax from a tension she hadn’t realized she was carrying. She shook out her shoulders. Slowing a bit, she looked to the edge of the pool and into the sharp delineation of darkness. It had been fun spending time with everyone, but maybe she should have taken Charley’s offer of a ride back to her apartment.

But she wasn’t ready for that moment in the car. That moment might turn into an invitation to come in for a cup of coffee. She’d only had three drinks, but she knew better than to make decisions like that on three drinks. With another laugh, she thought that deciding to walk home after those same three drinks might not have been wise either.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Maybe she should call a cab? Looking forward, she tried counting the pools of light that led to the intersection at Stewart Avenue, where she’d turn right. Stewart hadn’t been affected by the cost-cutting yet, and every light would still be on.

She knew it wasn’t more than half a mile to Stewart, even if she couldn’t quite make it out. Once she made the right turn, it was only another three blocks. Calling a cab or an Uber now would be silly. By the time the ride arrived, she’d already be home, and after a night out and extra wings, she could use the exercise.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Swoosh-skitter.

Melanie stopped at the edge of the pool with one leg in the darkness, a leg that felt unreasonably colder than the other. Turning, she looked back along the road and its pools and voids. Standing perfectly still, she examined every shadow and edge.

Nothing.

Turning slowly, she stepped into the void.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Fully into the darkness, her pace increased.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Stepping into the pool of light, she slowed.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Swoosh-skitter.

Swoosh-skitter.

Melanie turned and saw a shadow inside the shadows. A shadow that disappeared toward the brick buildings on the unlit side of the street. She squinted and stretched her neck forward, looking.

Nothing.

Shaking her head, she thought about those three drinks. Maybe they were stronger than she’d thought. She turned and eased through the pool toward the other edge.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Click-clack.

Tick.

The cooling hit like a wall. Stretching out her legs, she pushed against the lethargy the darkness carried. The next pool was just ahead. A few more steps. She felt her pulse increase.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Swoosh-skitter.

Crunch.

Swoosh-skitter.

Crunch.

Melanie turned as she stepped into the pool. The sound of gravel crunching raised the hair on her arms.

Nothing. The darkness was like a solid wall.

Click-click.

She stepped backward until she was in the hot spot of the light, right under the pole. She peered carefully into the darkness. She realized she could see the buildings across the street. Not clearly, but she could see them. Shadows of doors, dark windows.

The street was empty.

To her other side, she heard the babbling of water running in the darkness, where the sidewalk stopped and the grassy embankment sloped away to the creek’s edge.

Swoosh-skitter.

Crunch.

Melanie twisted away from the babbling creek sounds toward the gravel scratching concrete sound. Nothing. There by the door across the street, darker than the shadow. She stared, but before her brain could form a coherent shape in the darkness, it faded.

She turned and looked toward Stewart Avenue. She could make out the brightness of the streetlights. Yes, those were car headlights. Just a bit more, and she’d be there. She’d be in all that light.

Turning, she looked back at the door. Nothing there. Just a door set back into a wall, like every other door in the world. Melanie thought about the three drinks. She didn’t feel them anymore. The walk had drained the alcohol from her bloodstream.

With a breath, she shook her head and turned.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Click-clack.

Tick.

She strode through the void with her head up and shoulders back. Not afraid of the tricks her mind played on her.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Click-clack.

Tick.

Swoosh-skitter.

Crunch.

Melanie spun in the darkness and was blinded by light.

A metallic screeching noise hid itself in the light, assaulting her ears. A rush of air fluttered her clothing. She cowered backward, the click-clack of her shoes lost in the noise and the crunch of gravel. A loud hiss filled her ears. She squinted into the light.

“Next stop, Stewart and Randall,” the bus driver said, leaning on the chrome door handle.

Melanie stared at him without moving.

“You gettin’ on or not, miss?” the driver said around the toothpick wobbling between his lips. His driver’s hat was tilted back, showing a generous forehead. A coffee stain sat right where his stomach strained the buttons on his blue shirt.

As her eyes adjusted, Melanie saw the bus.

A city bus. A city bus full of light. She nodded without moving.

“Well, get on then. I’ve got a schedule to keep,” the toothpick counting the syllables as he spoke.

Melanie grabbed the rail and stepped onto the bus. She opened her purse and dug for change as the driver, Mel, she saw from his crooked plastic name tag pulled on the chrome handle, shutting the door behind her.

Melanie found the five quarters. With shaky hands, she got each one into the narrow slot. Each quarter made a slight metal tick sound as it fell onto its silver copies in the machine.

The bus squeaked and groaned as it pulled away from the curb, and Melanie swayed before grabbing the back of a plastic seat to steady herself. She settled into a corner seat and looked around.

Empty.

Of course, it was empty. This late at night, she was surprised it was even running. When did the buses stop running? She wondered.

She looked at the driver and saw he was watching her in the big mirror above his seat. He nodded and winked.

The bus hit a bump.

The lights flickered.

Melanie looked up at Mel.

“These old buses have some wiring problems, miss. Sometimes a bump flickers the lights, but don’t worry. They always come back on,” he said with a toothpick grin in the mirror.

She could see Stewart Ave approaching. Just a few more streetlights to go.

The bus hit a larger bump, and the lights flickered before going out.

“Just like I said, miss. These old buses. The lights’ll come back on. You’ll see.”

And they did. Sharp and full.

Each seat around Melanie now occupied by something diaphanously black that moved by an unfelt breeze. Something with no visible face. A cowl covered each head. Where a face should have been was just blackness.

A darkness that hid everything, except two glowing red eyes.

Melanie turned sharply to the driver’s mirror and saw the same glowing red eyes looking back from a faceless darkness. A toothpick jutted from the void.

The bus hit a bump and went dark.

Melanie screamed.