Chapter One:

Moving in quickly, the gray clouds covered the sun. A humid, spring afternoon had spawned a strong line of thunderstorms heading towards Cornwall-on-Hudson, NY. Maggie Crown approached the bus stop and cursed her forgetfulness for leaving the umbrella behind.
A rumble of thunder played in the distance, but not far off enough to appease her. As she looked at her watch, she noticed the school bus take the corner and head directly towards her. She could see Jeffery’s little hand waving to her from behind the bus driver’s head. She would have to talk to that boy again about staying in his seat until the bus came to a stop.
A roar of noise and child chatter filled the air as soon as the driver opened the door. Jeffery ran out and into her arms. She hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead.
“Tornado Watch this afternoon, Miss Maggie,” exclaimed the bus driver. “Better both get inside soon and put the Weather Channel on.”
“Thanks, Mr. Smith, I’ll do that,” She said, smiling. She didn’t want to sound condescending, so she didn’t tell Mr. Smith that a tornado had only graced this area twice in recorded history, so the probability of one arriving this afternoon was next to zero.
Walking in front of the bus and across the street, Jeffery held his mother’s hand tightly. Looking down at him, she knew immediately that something was wrong. The rumbling thunder moved steadily closer to them. She picked up her pace a bit to keep in step with her son, but the child continued to move faster.
“What’s the matter, babe? Something happen today at school?”
“I don’t want to talk about it now, Mom.”
Releasing a sigh, she wondered how much more she could take of this. Jeffery, although extremely bright and likeable, had been the most mischievous kid in kindergarten this year. Several times she had dragged herself away from work to meet with the principal and discuss the various behavioral problems of her son. His inability to focus in the classroom was becoming a problem. Maggie worried that her son, now labeled as having a problem, would be forced to take drugs for his behavior.
She frowned at the thought of putting her child onto some drug to curtail his natural, energy-laden personality. There was always home schooling, but she preferred not to take that particular route. She had been home schooled, and although she obtained a superior education, it had forced her into an adult world before she was ready.
At last week’s meeting at the school they had discussed Jeffery’s inability to listen to the teacher’s rules. One morning, instead of asking the teacher for permission to use the bathroom, he had just gotten up from his desk, run down the hall, with two teachers chasing after him, run into the boy’s bathroom, climbed on top of the sink, and forced the bathroom window shut. What disturbed Mrs. Parker, the principal, was that he had been running as the teachers were telling him to stop. He had just kept going until he had reached his destination. The child had never slowed down nor had he swayed in his pace.
When she finally arrived at the school that morning, she saw him sitting in Mrs. Parkers’ office telling jokes as if nothing had happened. Running into her arms, he had hugged his mother as she entered the office. Yet again, he begged for forgiveness. Insisting that he had needed to close the bathroom window to keep him and other children safe from the bad men, he said there had been no time to ask the teacher for permission to use the bathroom.
At first, Mrs. Parker didn’t dismiss his story. In today’s world, there was always the possibility that a stalker was peeping into the boy’s bathroom waiting to snatch a child through the window. The security in the small school building had recently changed. One needed to be buzzed in by the front office before entering the premises and parents no longer had the right to roam the hallways during school hours.
“I swear, Mom, he was there. He was trying to get in. I had to shut the window.”
“Jeffery, who was he?”
Jeffery shrugged his shoulders. “I swear, he was there.”
“Possibly, Ms. Crown, there would be footprints in front of the window. I should have thought of this sooner.  Please, excuse me for a moment,” Mrs. Parker stated.
“There isn’t going to be any footprints,” Jeffery said.
“Honey,” replied Mrs. Parker, “let me go take a look.”
As the principal walked outside to check underneath the boy’s bathroom window, Maggie flashed Jeffery a stern look.
“But, Mom, I am telling the truth. He was going to come in and hurt someone. I don’t know who, but probably me.”
“Did you get a look at the man?”
“It isn’t a man, Mom, it’s a shadow. A dark, nasty shadow.”
“Not again with the shadows. How can we tell the principal that?”
As Mrs. Parker opened the door to re-enter her office, Maggie knew from the expression on her face that she had found no footprints in the snow. Although Jeffery tried to explain that a shadow had no feet, both adults were growing tired of the make-believe stories. This wasn’t the first fairytale type of story that Jeffery had tried to pass off as truth.
“Jeffery, we make sure you are all safe here,” Mrs. Parker said. “And that nothing can happen to you. Please trust us. You and the other children are safe.”
“Yes, honey,” Maggie interjected.  “Your school is very safe. Mrs. Parker and I are both sure nothing could get in here and hurt any of you.”
The principal smiled at him. “Sometimes things that are fake seem to be real. Do you understand, Jeffery?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do,” he said with a blank expression on his face.
That day, he sat in the principal’s office, promising his mother and the principal to do better next time. For days after that meeting, Maggie was unable to shake the memory of her son’s face during that afternoon. Not an angry look or a mischievous look, but a hurt look. He obviously believed in what he was saying, but was unable to have the luxury of having others believe him. He had looked beaten and solemn. She hoped never to see that look upon his face again.
She wanted to demand that he tell the principal that his story about the man at the window was a lie, but she didn’t press it. Jeffery looked disappointed enough in her already, she saw no reason to bring him down even further.
She thought about looking up his behavior on the Internet tonight to see how other parents dealt with a child that was making up ghost stories.
As they walked away from the school bus stop, Jeffery kept turning back to look behind them.
The rain droplets started to fall as the thunder crashed only about a mile away. He started to lag in his walking pace because he kept turning around to look behind them.
“C’mon, babe, why are you slowing down?” she asked. “Look ahead when you walk, not behind you, please. That’s a good way to fall right on your butt.”
Maggie was shocked to see that her use of the word ‘butt’ hadn’t pried a giggle out of the boy. Her use of any word such as butt, fart and bogie would cause him to have a complete giggle meltdown. She knew something was very wrong.
In an instant, he picked up his pace to keep step with his mother and turned his head to look behind them again.
Looking back herself, she asked, “What are you looking for?”
“The shadow man,” he answered.
“The who?” She asked as he turned back again and carried on walking. “I don’t want to get stuck in this storm,” she continued to say. “Save the stories until we get home.”
Hearing the word ‘shadow’ sent chills down her spine. Holding back her impulse, she didn’t reprimand her son. Tired of hearing about the ‘shadow people’, Maggie released a deep sigh. This was the last straw for him and his stories. Tonight, she would toast marshmallows around the fire with him, and they would close the door on the shadow people.
The skies turned dark as the local siren cut out a loud scream. Straight in front of them, a tumultuous cloud was forming. Its blackness stood out starkly among the numerous gray clouds. The wind pushed on them. Looking up at the sky, she saw the cloud spinning ominously. The black cloud then formed into an oblong shape, devouring the gray clouds in its path as it grew larger.



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   HIDDEN SHADOWS