Shadows—drifting, levitating, pulsating—loom as living entities once dusk begins its nightly reign.

My head rests uneasily as a flurry of frenzied thoughts are rapid in succession, though strangely unclear in terms of any specific storyline or deep-seeded subliminal message. They are fragmented; scattered puzzle-pieces on an ever-shifting board.
Do I dream or do the shadows swirling about the room like wingless bats move freely without benefit of a matching object to create them?

My eyeglasses sit easily within reach, but may as well be resting on a faraway moonscape, as a lethal mix of apprehensive, hesitation and bone-weary grogginess prevents any attempt at retrieval.

With a jarring start, I awake (or do I?) and notice that the largest shadow, which possesses the dimensions of a human body roughly my own size, no longer sways nor shifts, but has managed to nudge closer to me somehow, clearly outlined like a still painting on a nearby wall. Its precise shape still a mystery to my blurred vision, exhaustion overtakes curiosity (not to mention stark fear) and I drift into an uneasy slumber.

As if a lightning bolt had struck within the cramped confines of the very room itself, a bright burst of light streaming across the ceiling reawakens me (or does it?).

Instinctively I check for the primary shadow, figuring it to be drawing ever closer as a yellow cloak sewn of pure cowardice engulfs my weak and weary soul.

Surprisingly, it has instead vanished from the wall entirely, leaving behind only the familiar paintings, smudges and bare spots that have adorned the same space for eons.

My heartbeat slowing somewhat, I twist and roll to the other side of the king-sized bed, dragging pillow, sheet and blanket in my wake. I close my burning, stinging eyes and pray that sleep can now be uninterrupted for the duration of what remains of the blackened night long past the witching hour.

Something gnaws at both my gut and chest; an overwhelming feeling of dread and nervous apprehension that should have abated with the shadow''s disappearance. I fight with all that remains of the reasonable portion of my brain to ignore such foolish, childish thoughts, but the increased pounding at my temples and dryness of my parched throat will not allow for such a hollow escape.

Finally my eyes flutter open as the revelation begins to take hold. The palms of my hands grow increasingly moist and my legs are suddenly rubbery stumps without a shred of usefulness.

The life-sized shadow hangs directly over my head, its spidery fingers gripping the tangles of my woefully neglected and overgrown coif.

My scalp burns and tingles as if lit ablaze.

Its grip and strength are inhuman, and I feel its steamy hot breath swoosh over my bare neck and between my shoulder blades.

I am lifted from the bed like a bird’s feather and am being dragged into the shadow''s wide, pitch-black base.

A base that is the bed’s equal in width.

A base as dark as the deepest, dankest cave imaginable.

Incredibly, it laughs as it pulls me into its cool, dank maw; a cackling giggle that is all too familiar.

I heard such maniacal cackling the night my entire family vanished from the house. The house I still occupy despite the warnings from locals who called the very land it lays upon a breeding ground for all things evil.

As I penetrate its black, pulsating center, my body swept inside like a dust mite in a monsoon, I spot my beautiful wife and sweet, young daughter floating freely in the ebony mists ahead.

I reach for them, feeling as if my heart will surely implode from a potentially fatal mix of stark fear and unrivaled ecstasy.

After only an instant’s hesitation, they levitate closer as to caress the battered husk my outer shell has become.

It isn’t until the very moment we come together…together as a complete family unit once again…that I notice the rather bizarre alterations in their facial features.

Their teeth seem…elongated somehow…grotesquely so…and…spear-like at their glistening, sharpened tips. Stubby bases and honed tips, as if the latter had been steel-filed to such a condition.

Their overly pale, nude bodies are pock-mocked and infested with scattered pustules that leak yellowish/brown pus, and, by far the worst of all, reek of ripeness, rot and decay.

Mercifully, a new scent intervenes and soon overwhelms, not nearly as rank or offensive but equally stout. It is the smell of copper, like handfuls of pennies soaking in a pool of warm, putrid water.  

My loved ones grasp me, taking me gently into their collective bosoms…such love is indeed unconditional…they then, quite unexpectedly but not at all unpleasant a sensation…begin to taste me.

With this is birthed a cool, cloaking darkness, undeniably soothing, like a blanket sewn from equal parts relief and retribution, that washes over and fills my senses and, at least temporarily, provides a much-needed respite from the surrounding madness. 

Seconds, minutes, hours (?) pass until the reprieve is revealed as blatantly fraudulent; the proverbial wolf-in-sheep’s clothing; the mythical calm before a final, fatal storm.  

Flaring nostrils packed with a stink undefinable, I attempt try to scream out but manage only a feeble whine before spatting a sickly warm, glutinous mass I soon realize is my own shredded viscera.

Toppling from the bed, I rise quickly only to bump my head on the metal frame that holds the box spring intact.

Over a stiff cup of coffee and a trio of cigarettes, I ponder the hidden agenda of my ghostly ‘second skin’, which is how I’ve come to think of the phantom shadow now sharing my bedroom. I consider moving to the couch before fervently disallowing such childish cowardice.

Moonlight shoots through the open window and paints a striped outline across my empty bed and the mangled mess of sheets and blankets that remain.

Painstakingly, resembling a man twenty years my senior, I crawl back atop, covering my face with a sweat moistened pillow.

No shadows exist other than what should be as I carefully inspect each wall.

My family finds the strangest ways to visit me from the dark embrace of their eternal keeper’s domain.

The decision to sell the house is now a concrete one, I realize. The dreams are frequent; ruthless, relentless. Worse still, the fine line between reality and fantasy grows far too narrow for comfort. Almost nonexistent, in fact.

The desolate graveyard which looms only a scant half-mile from the bedroom window serves as a malevolent beacon. A beacon one’s subconscious is far too easily drawn to, sounding a silent alarm in the buried catacombs where guilt lays locked away but not quite buried.

The shadow is not a stranger, oh no. This I know.

Far from it, in fact.

Its origin is no mystery whatsoever.

The shadow is my very own, you see.

I…assisted in their premature demise (I find murder such a crude, distasteful word), just over a year ago, and their constant hauntings will never cease until I depart these grounds, even the very region, that witnessed my greatest sin. Money is the root of all evil, it has been notated countless times. All men are created equal? Perhaps.

However, in light of my own actions, I’d counter with all men are created EVIL.

Similarly, I believe, all men have their price. However dire the consequences; come what may. Not all will succumb. Not all will adhere to the advice of the mischievous demon that whispers so seductively into their ear.

The majority, in fact, will find within themselves the self-control and morality needed to turn away the lust, the greed, the sloth; the dark side that lurks within.

As it was, six-hundred-thousand dollars of guaranteed life insurance became the selling price for my own damned, heartless soul. It perhaps goes without saying that self-control had never been one of my strong points.

Sleep eventually overtakes my paranoia and I attempt (as is the nightly ritual) to produce a happier home movie to slumber by. I awake to see myself lying in the bed, my mouth stretched wide and my eyes wide with terror.

I drift across the dry wall like a red-hot scythe through butter.
Tonight, I will join my family.
Our bodies will share the same damned grounds, our minds the same hellish purgatory.
I plead and beg and grope for the keys to my very own soul and both versions of myself, the physical and the shadow, scream and wail as one.
I see my beautiful wife and lovely daughter levitate like ceramic angels come to life within the misty air above.

Sweet Jill, such a gentle, selfless soul and loyal mate, sadly clueless to the greed and callousness of her chosen spouse.

Precious Pamela, barely seven winters aged at the time of her untimely demise, her reddish pigtails unturned ironically like, lord help me, devil horns, and that oh-so-familiar wide, toothy smile firmly intact.

As they float near, the reeking, rancid odor that emanates from their decaying flesh assaults my flaring nostrils, thought strangely (and mercifully) I discover my gag reflex is permanently out of order.  

They open their mouths to kiss me upon greeting…mouths whose lips drip cherry red drool…mouths suddenly stretched unnaturally wide before flaying apart at the corners and flapping like dislodged flower pedals in a wind gust of hurricane proportions.

Still (and surprisingly), their kisses begin as gentle pecks…soothing, harmless and even tickly…

…but soon mutate into something far more sinister, less loving kisses than desperate nibbles and finally groaning, growling, slurping, flesh-tearing gnaws birthed not from love but from the basest of needs as my life source is slowly, methodically drained.

…there is no struggle, not even the feeblest of resistance; just grim acceptance in that such retribution, be it supernatural or spiritual, is so very long overdue…

…thus, a family unit is reborn for eternity…

…and all shadows fade as the morning sun rises…
….revealing nothing more than an empty bed and bare, blank walls without neither shape nor substance…
….as my loved ones have so efficiently shown me, so very up close and personal, blood is indeed thicker than water….
…it seems the family that slays together, or in this case, is slain together, stays together.

….for whatever eternal hell awaits me alone beyond their kindred embrace.

Happy Halloween 2021!!

END