Lucy Young, 11th, St. Ansgar High School, (Fiction) "The Darkness You Should Fear" I told him I was afraid of the dark. He didn’t care. It was around 10 p.m. on October first. I had just gotten off my shift at Randy’s Market. My coworker, James, and I were left to close up shop. He was in a hurry to get home, so when I asked him to walk me across the parking lot, he just shrugged and jogged towards his house. As I watched him round the block, he was illuminated by the streetlights on the sidewalk. “What a gentleman,” I muttered under my breath. James and I had been working there together for almost four years. We spent so much time together: stocking shelves, singing along to the music played in the store, and eating our lunches in the break room. Although that is all true, we never spent any time together away from school or work. He used to have the biggest crush on me for the longest time. I never once shared those feelings and joylessly rejected him many times. It changed our friendship; based on what just happened, I guess he finally got over his feelings and was back to being the stubborn boy I knew before. I wasn’t lying. I really didn't like the dark. Not only that, the parking lot had no street lamps; it gave me a creepy feeling. I’d walked to my car alone many times; nothing ever happened. There’s always a first, right? I don’t even know what I was expecting: a kidnapper? A thief? I told myself I was just scared, paranoid, maybe even crazy. I should’ve listened to my gut. I imagined I was following my shadow that was cast in front of me. Obviously I didn’t have one; I had left the streetlights behind me. It was somewhat comforting, like I wasn’t alone. I focused on that until I contracted a new fear: it wasn’t my own shadow. I swore to myself I was psychotic when I thought I heard a scuffle of shoes in the near distance. Even still, I hurried my pace. When my beat up Pontiac was within reach, I was able to finally let out the breath I’d been holding for the past one-hundred yards. I opened the door to my car, threw my things in, and planted one foot inside, just as a cold draft hit my exposed ankles. It was a shock, but I don't remember swearing. Maybe I did whisper a curse. I could definitely feel winter making an unwanted entrance into the Midwest. The heat in my car wasn’t working well since the winter before, and I forgot to have it fixed, so I popped the trunk to grab my blanket. Expecting to get hit by a cold front, I hugged myself in my sweatshirt. Surprisingly, I looked around and everything was still; even the trees looked uncomfortably frozen in time. After spending some time shuffling
34
