“No problem, dear,” she answered with an amused chuckle. She leaned down to peck his forehead before strolling over to the closet and shutting it tightly. April Hopkins moved to the door and stopped to double-check on her son. Observing his obvious anxiety, she reassuringly smiled as she flicked the lights off. “Sleep tight.”
Wilson Hopkins did not sleep tight. He silently buried himself under the covers, feeling a bit more at ease with the sheets covering his head, but he knew that would not drive away the creatures scurrying around in his closet. Fearfully, he squeezed his eyes shut. Monsters were not real. Monsters did not exist. Monsters were—
A giggle, followed by shuffling. A menacing laugh that echoed behind the closet doors.
He bit back a weak laugh and curled into a tight ball.
Monsters were real, but no one else seemed to realize that.
***
Clinging to his mother’s hand, Wilson stared at Aunt Nana’s house with wide, fearful eyes. The house was in the middle of renovation. One half was dark brown, the wooden boards creaking and grey paint peeling off the walls while the other half was repainted in cheery shades of white and blue. His aunt had redone the front yard, carpeting the lawn with fresh grass and dotting the porch with potted, florid flowers, the myriad of colors melting together into a gaudy rainbow. Clearly, Aunt Nana was not fit to be a landscaper.
“Wilson, let’s go,” cooed his mother. She stepped forward, but Wilson stayed firmly rooted to his spot.
He shook his head. “It’s scary.” He timidly stepped behind Mrs. Hopkins while peeking out just enough to warily stare at the house with one eye. Despite the shining new coat of paint and the jovial flowers, the house’s new appearance failed to mask the dark, creeping atmosphere that everyone except Wilson seemed oblivious to.
His mother sighted patiently. “I know Nana isn’t done sprucing up the house, but it’s not that bad, now come on!” She urged him forward, gently pressing hand on his back to move her son down the concrete pathway and towards the porch steps. “See? It’s not that bad.”
“I guess,” muttered Wilson. He tentatively stepped onto the wooden boards. He eased his weight onto the step and it shrieked. Startled, Wilson flinched and jumped back, his arms in the air. His mother laughed, unmindful of the creaking steps and hopped up to the front door. She rang the doorbell, a tinkling melody of bells and whistles. The door eased open with a moan and revealed a petite woman.
“April! You’re here! Ah, you brought your son, too! Come ‘ere, Willie!” gushed Nana, stretching her arms out towards the small child who hobbled into her choking hug.
“I-It’s nice to see y-you again Aunt Nana…” Wilson’s voice trailed off as he gripped Nana’s arms to furtively loosen her hold.
“Willie, you silly goose. Just call me Auntie!” she insisted as she finally let go of him and ushered him inside. “Come, you two, come!”
Unlike the sunny weather outside, inside the house was dark, foreboding. Aunt Nana chalked it up to the faulty wiring and old light bulbs, but Wilson knew better. He planted himself between his aunt and his mother. He stared at the ceiling like it was something interesting, and in a way, it was. Strange creatures swam across the plaster ceiling, silently smiling as they drifted from side to side. They flitted through the house, oblivious to Wilson’s watchful eyes. Their movements were fluid, almost graceful, but it did not change the fact that they were not natural, creatures that people were normally unaware of.
Even at the kitchen table, he situated himself between his mother and aunt. His fingers clutched the glass of juice that Aunt Nana had given him.
“Drink your juice, dear,” Mrs. Hopkins calmly insisted as she sipped her own cup of water. Her sister laughed as she rummaged through the cupboards until finally pulling out a package of cookies. Nana opened the bag and pushed it towards Wilson.
“What do you think of the house?”
“It’s lovely,” answered his mother, smiling. She expectantly looked at Wilson. “What about you, honey?”
Sullenly, he reached into the bag for a cookie. He nibbled on the baked treat, picking up the tiny crumbs with the press of a finger. “It’s old.” Nana laughed, but he could feel his mother’s sharp glare. “It’s old, but nice and spacious.” Enough to house a lot of ghosts and monsters. Wilson kept that last bit to himself. No one would believe him. Was this all just his imagination, after all?
When he went home, he quietly told his mother that he preferred to never visit Aunt Nana’s home ever again.
***
Wilson sat on the swing in his backyard; his feet firmly planted to the ground as he sullenly listened to his mother berate him.
“Wilson! You’re in middle school now, so why are you still spouting nonsense about monsters and ‘things that go bump in the night’?” she hissed. She glared at the child, her fury jumping to even higher levels when he continued to sadly stare at the ground. Mrs. Hopkins sighed and stormed over. Both of her hands cupped Wilson’s face, forcing him to stare at her eyes, a volatile mixture of frustration and affection. “Sweetie, you’re ten now. You need to grow up. Those creatures you’re talking about? They don’t exist. You need to realize that.”
Pouting, he avoided his mother’s gaze. “Yes, Mother,” Wilson reluctantly answered.
He heard her sigh, exasperated and unconvinced at his half-baked rejoinder. Her hands caressed his cheeks before letting go. “Don’t let it be too obvious, okay? The other children will laugh at you, I know,” she whispered. Mrs. Hopkins glanced back and gently gestured for him to follow. “It’s time for dinner.”
A smile wormed its way onto his face. “Yes, Mother,” repeated Wilson as he slid off the swing and hobbled-ran after her. His hand shakily reached out to grab April’s hand, and he grinned at the soft warmth of her skin against his. Wilson’s cheeks flushed a cheerful pink as he affectionately told his mother, “I love you!”
He still smiled when the bushes giggled and playfully eased out their roots. His mother shrieked when she nearly tripped over one of them, but he casually stepped over the crawling plants. As if to reassure himself, Wilson repeated, “I love you!”
***
Silence, save for the occasional grating of graphite against paper and the once-in-a-while sniffle or sneeze. Wilson loomed over his desk and leaned against his arm as he filled out the quiz. He locked his gaze on the myriad of mathematical equations sprawled across the paper rather than on the window, where puffs of snowflakes flitted and spun through the sky before gently assimilating with the white blanket that covered the ground.
It was better to not look outside.
A black figure entered the peripherals of his vision and Wilson stiffened. It drew closer to reveal itself as Mrs. Duncan’s billowing skirt, rustling as she slowly eased her way down the aisle. Realizing his folly, he berated his paranoia and returned his attention back to his test, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was awry. He breathed deeply and squeezed his eyes shut. If he could not remove his ability to see the supernatural, at least he could pretend he did not know its presence. It had been so difficult at first, painstaking, even.
Now? He was so close to tuning them out. As a child, they had laughed and sang in his ears until he had blurred the line between his world and theirs. This year was his first year in high school, and now the flickering shadows were tricks of his eyes, their giggling a soft murmur.
Hahahahahaha…
Wilson furrowed his eyebrows. Who was laughing during the test?
In his mind, he drew a line between himself and the shadows. You stay on that side, and I’ll stay on mine. The words were not verbally spoken, but he hoped they understood. They writhed and squirmed, spiny shadow arms reaching out for Wilson as he spun around and walked away. He was silly, to have let his fearful imagination get the better of him for so many years.
Denial. Rejection. Fear. Hate. Denial. Denial. His heart screamed for the truth, but he calmly closed the door and locked it tight. Whatever it took to make his mother happy. Whatever it took to stop his endless nightmares.
***
“You have a real knack for this,” complimented Andrew. His muscular arms were folded across his chest as he stood a careful distance away from Wilson. The man’s icy blue eyes focused on the red-and-white target placed hundreds of yards away. “A bit of practice, and you’ll be a decent shooter.”
“Really?” Wilson couldn’t suppress his bright grin. His eyes sparkled with giddy excitement. It was not every day his cynical, childhood friend complimented him. “That makes me really happy!”
Wilson lowered his head until it was even with the gun in his hands. His arm remained steady as he guided the barrel to the target’s center. Narrowed eyes honed in on the red circle as he slowly pulled the trigger. The strength of the recoil rippled through his muscles and his arms naturally jerked up, but Wilson was proud to say that he stubbornly held onto the gun—unlike his first attempt, heh. He could see the bullet’s hole, a p***k because of the vast distance. Notably, it was nowhere near the center, but at least he had hit the darn thing. Bubbling with glee, he shot around to expectantly stare at Andrew like a dog awaiting a treat.
Wilson’s grin met Andrew’s scowl. They began a silent staring showdown, which lasted a few seconds before Andrew rolled his eyes and sighed. “For your first trip to the shooting range, you did well.” A rare smirk graced his lips. “Though, I think it’s time we leave.”
Wilson cocked his head and questioningly stared at Andrew, who half nodded at the lad’s shaking arms. Gaping, he brought his hands closer to his appalled face. Rendered speechless, he mutely stared at his trembling hands.
Andrew chuckled and slapped the younger boy on the back. “You managed to shoot a lot for a first try. You’re just not used to the recoil. You’ll get used to it,” he reassured Wilson.
“O-Okay.”
In the back of his head, he could hear a voice incessantly repeat You want to shoot away all the monsters, right? You want to get rid of your fears. He squashed the thought. How childish!
***
“Honey, are you packed yet?”
Wilson had been staring out his bedroom window when he heard his mother’s voice drift up the stairs. He suppressed a guilty look as he glanced at his bed, where his suitcase lay, flopped open. The few shirts and pants his mother had bothered to fold and place in his bag were carefully tucked inside, but that was it. He jumped for the closet while attempting to make his frantic steps quiet as possible.
“A-Almost, Mother!” Wilson hurriedly threw out jackets and a couple more shirts. The clothes fell onto the bed in a heap and he squashed the pile into his case. He flipped the flap over and began to zip the suitcase, but the zipper would not budge. A sigh. A cross of his arms. A pout. Then he became serious and sat on his bag. The contents were pummeled by his weight. Wilson tried not to victoriously laugh as he sealed the suitcase closed. “All ready, Mother! I’m gonna go to the range for a bit, now!”
He hopped off the bag and kneeled down to search beneath the shadows of his bed. Wilson groped around for his long gun, a gift from his father when he had turned eighteen this year. His fingers settled on the familiar, smooth feel of his weapon and he grinned. He reached out. At first Wilson felt a large gob of dust as he ran over what he thought was a beaming mouth, but he coolly continued to stretch his arm out towards the gun and extracted it. He could have sworn he heard a deep, rumbling laugh, but shrugged. It must have been a hallucination of his.
Grinning and gun in hand, Wilson slid down the stairs. He sped through the kitchen and took the keys out of his mother’s outstretched hand. She smiled fondly. “My boy’s all grown up, leaving the state for college!” she mused as he disappeared out the door.
He laughed and turned around until he was jogging backwards. “You know I’ll call!” Wilson stumbled into the front door, took a few seconds to recollect himself—Mrs. Hopkins chuckled—and he disappeared into the car.
***
By the time he began sophomore year, Wilson had already adjusted to college life: staying up until the morning, attending lectures, doing assignments, attending more lectures, and occasionally attending a college party. He had holed himself up in his dorm, furiously scribbling down notes and filling out worksheets due the next day when his roommate loudly burst into the room. The unceremonious arrival sent Wilson’s papers flying all over the room.
His roommate laughed and reached over to grab Wilson’s wrist. “Dude, you know Jerry and Alex are throwing a party at the haunted building? You’ve gotta come!”
So here he was, leaning against the wall while calmly sipping a cup of soda—as tempting as it was to down a bit of alcohol, he sort of wanted to leave the party in one piece and with his dignity intact. He briefly surveyed the room before getting up. As much as he liked attending parties, he kind of had a couple papers due the next day. Casually, Wilson weaved his way through the crowd and ignored the blatantly drunk students, who were more than satisfied to entertain each other. He passed by the table, until he spotted a girl with a vaguely familiar face. Had he seen her before? Curious, Wilson decided to approach her—his papers could wait, hopefully—and muttered a quiet greeting.
She jumped, evoking a grin out of him. “So,” he began as he walked over to quietly stand beside her, “Is this your first college party?” It was an observation he had made. She seemed quite reserved, not quite the type for the eccentricity and chaos a party could occasionally break out into.
She looked away, apparently annoyed. Wilson turned his gaze towards his cup. Had he said the wrong thing? “Not really,” she replied after a moment.
He was relieved. At least she was still willing to speak with him. “Oh, I see.” Wilson nodded thoughtfully, taking another gulp of his drink. “How do you like it so far?”
“It’s okay.” Hm. Not much of a conversationalist, observed Wilson. Well, at least he had plenty of experience with dealing with those types—talking with Andrew had given him plenty of practice.
“I’m glad it’s not horrible, at least.”
She seemed to be searching for something else to say and he couldn’t keep himself from smiling. It was adorable and different from Andrew’s curt rejoinders that often led into long spaces of silence.
“So do you know the hosts?” she questioned.
He mulled the question over. Jerry and Alex, right? Wilson knew they were in the same year, and he sometimes saw them in his literature class, but that was it. “Um. Sort of, we have a literature class together, but they don’t show up much.” They seemed too enamored by the world of college parties, alcohol, and girls.
Her eyes lit up with recognition as she turned towards him. “The one in the big lecture hall? I’m in that class, too. I don’t think I’ve met you before.”
The news pleasantly startled Wilson. That must have been the reason her face seemed so familiar. It was a rather large class, so it was unsurprising that Wilson could rattle off barely half the names of his classmates. “Yeah, same here. It’s a pretty big class, though.”
She seemed to have her attention focused elsewhere, as she offhandedly answered, “Mm, yeah.”
He questioningly tilted his head at her. “Is something wrong?” Wilson turned around and tried to see what she was looking at, but found nothing particularly interesting or out of the ordinary.
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Okay. Now he was really curious, but he decided to not pry any further. “It’s nothing. I’m Emmaline.” She pushed out a hand and he obligingly took it, shaking it with firm confidence as he politely smiled.
“Oh, I see. I’m Wilson. It’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too.” Emmaline was still acting strangely, nervously licking her lips as she tentatively added, “I just don’t like being in old buildings. I’m sorry, I must seem neurotic.” She laughed, but it sounded hollow and paranoid to Wilson. He frowned, but at least he knew the reason for her odd behavior.
“Oh, it’s alright! When I was a kid I never liked old buildings too, but I got over it,” he reassured her. Aunt Nana’s house came to mind. Her home was as colorful as ever, with even more flowering plants decorating her yard, but inside it was still as gloomy as ever. Wilson could somewhat recall his impression of the house, dark and crawling with weird creatures that waltzed around the halls. He wanted to laugh at his child-self’s silly imagination, but somehow could not.
“It feels like—It feels like we’re not supposed to be here. Or maybe we are, but something bad is going to happen. Not that I’m saying that something... will happen.” She blurted out her thoughts to him as she nervously shifted her drink from one hand to the other. Her sudden confusion surprised him, but Wilson was glad she had the courage to speak the truth to him—practically a stranger. Still, the idea that she was implying, ghosts and supernatural creatures, unsettled him. He blankly followed her gaze as he took another sip from his cup.
“Oh, okay…” His voice trailed off. A part of him wanted to dismiss her words as paranoid ramblings, but another part of him zealously agreed with her fears.
“Yeah, it’s just me being paranoid. I must read too many horror novels.” Her reasoning didn’t seem sincere, like it was just an excuse to placate him. Wilson furrowed his eyebrows, but before he could say anything else she spoke again, leaving her cup at the table. “Please excuse me. I have a test to study for. It was nice to meet you.”
Wilson began to sputter and placed his cup next to hers. “Wait—so soon? I—At least let me come with you, I can’t have a pretty lady like yourself walk home in the dark all alone,” he called out after her. Just as she placed her hand on the door handle, she looked back at him. He smiled.
“I-It’s fine. You probably have friends waiting for you.”
He laughed. As if his roommate would care if he left early or not. “No, it’s fine. They won’t notice my disappearance at all. Please, I insist.”
She looked away, contemplating his offer. “Okay. Thanks.” She gave him a grateful smile that Wilson was more than eager to answer with his own grin. “I live on the North Campus. It’s kind of far.”
Wilson suppressed a chuckle. Was that supposed to deter him from walking her back? “It’s alright. I won’t get tired from walking, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m pretty athletic.”
“I’ll be under your protection, then.” Emmaline quietly chuckled, her soft laughter pleasantly ringing in his ears.
“I’ll protect you to the best of my ability.” He couldn’t stop smiling as he followed her out the door. Was it the light, or was she turning red? If it was even possible, Wilson’s grin stretched even wider.
They continued to make small talk, but the walk was mainly filled with comfortable silence. Once they reached the front of her dorm building, Emmaline turned around. “This is it. Thank you for your gallant protection.”
For some reason, Wilson found himself playfully bowing, just like a charming prince. “All in a day’s work, my fair lady.” He looked up at her, still smiling. Impulsively, Wilson leaned forward to brush his lips against her cheek: a quick peck. He could feel her body stiffen and he hid another smile as he whispered in her ear. “Sweet dreams.”
“You too.” She was still blushing. He reluctantly turned around, about to walk away when she called out, “Are you sure you didn’t see anything? At the party?”
Wilson stopped, contemplating his answer. His first instinct was to reply with a lighthearted ‘no,’ but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. To say he had seen nothing unusual at the party would be a lie, because he had seen the shadows that ominously loomed behind people and the shadow people that amusedly watched the crowd. “See anything? Yeah, I guess I did.”
Her face lit up. “I’ve always seen them.”
He smiled softly. So he wasn’t the only one? “Me too, but after a while I just ignored them. It’s easier to just deny their existence. “
“Is it?”
“...For a while, but I don’t think I can do that anymore.” He laughed. For so long, he had denied their existence, but a few prodding questions from Emmaline caused the truth to tumble out of his memories.
“It’s changed, hasn’t it? Almost like a shift in the wind. It was different before.”
“Almost, yeah.” He raised his head to the sky and frowned when he found it to be a blanket of darkness with hardly a star glittering. The city smog and light pollution had erased their existence. Still, he managed to smile softly. “But it’s okay now, you’re not alone this time, and I’m not either.”
“Yes.” She smiled too, and waved him off. “See you in class.”
“Yeah, see you,” he echoed, walking backwards and saluting her before he finally decided to turn around and walk into the night, back to his dorm.
***
em,
started training 2day. its not 2 bad so far…
He sat under the shade of an oak tree. His legs were bent, knees facing the sky, and spread out into a v-shape. Wilson perched his arms on his knees. Miraculously, he could still see the tiny text on the phone in his hands. After he sent the text he leaned back and sighed. As soon as he had graduated college, he enlisted into the nearest police department as a recruit. It was a shame that most departments required an associate or bachelor degree, because he had always wanted to become a police officer. To protect. To bring justice. To save.
Idly, he raised his arms and brought his fingers together to form an incomplete box. Wilson playfully looked through the square, which sped over misshapen clouds and strolling citizens before it passed by an odd man in a black suit and donning a matching fedora. Hm.
“Can I help you?” Wilson asked politely, bringing down his arms until his palms felt blades of grass tickle his skin.
“You can see them, can’t you?” The stranger pulled down on the brim of his hat until only his sly grin was visible.
Them. Wilson frowned as he stood up, brushing a few stray strands of grass. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He walked away, but the nameless man stubbornly followed.
“Now, now, don’t give me the cold shoulder! You know and I know that mankind is prey to them. Don’t you want to become a Hunter?” You can protect. You can bring justice. You can save. The words were unspoken, but Wilson heard it clearly.
He kept walking, but answered casually, “What do I have to do?”
The man smiled.
