I have a secret. You can’t tell anyone. Simply by reading on you will know too much. They will make you a target, as I have made myself one. If you value being free and alive, don’t read on.
It all started the night my mother didn’t come home. I was six, and I looked out the window to the beat up old driveway until 10:00. Way past my bedtime. I crawled into bed and drifted into a restless sleep. This is the first time I saw them. They danced in and out of my vision; none of them had faces, shapes. None of them were identifiable. But there was one that I could find every time she passed. I could tell it was a she for one reason; it was my mother. These things had my mother. That’s when I woke up. I ran to my mother’s room screaming.
“Mama! Mama!” I ran to her bed and jumped on the lump under the covers. I pulled them back. There was nothing. My mother wasn’t there.
When I say nothing, I mean nothing. Nothing at all. A bottomless pit, a never-ending hole. I would fall forever until I turned old, my body would continue to fall even after death if I had jumped. I screamed and ran away from that hole. Possibly the hole that took my mother. The one that took her away from me, from her life. But I now know very well that this was not the case. That hole was placed there for me. Some other thing had taken her away from me. Something I had no name for.
If you are wondering who I am, I am Abby Terace. I am thirteen years old and have no father, he left before I was born, yet I still feel I know him. I know he has brown hair, and green eyes. I know where he works and when he moves jobs. My mother never told me anything about him, but I know his name is Mike. I can see people in my head, what they are doing and when, what they look like. This used to surprise me, but nothing much startles me anymore with the threat of being taken into an alternate dimension hanging over my head.
Over the next seven years, I would not, could not, go to school. It would be way too easy for them to track me, to capture me. I was always evasive, slept at places only once, then moved on. I have been to thirty eight of the fifty states, and once I have been through every town in all forty eight actually touching North America, I will move on to Canada, Then Mexico.
Trust? Is that allowed in the life of a runaway? Not in my book. Before I realized how dangerous these things were, everyone I saw looked like one of them. I became paranoid, and my friends noticed. I told them, and soon after, they disappeared too. These things appeared in my dreams every night, and the day my friends disappeared, they were running with the creatures and my mother. Kaya, Emily, forgive me for giving you that life.
Running isn’t actually so bad, if I had the time to stop and look around. But until the creatures are destroyed, I must keep moving, keep going. Anyone I get close to, even talk to is in danger. I haven’t had a full conversation in seven years. The only words I have said is maybe asking for my room key or responding to a question with a short to-the-point answer. Conversations aren’t necessary for success. I don’t need any money. Life gives me food if I need it. Fruits have always been able to sustain me.
I haven’t been back to my house in Norwalk Connecticut since I started to run. I don’t miss it, my worst memories occurred there. The swirling hole is always haunting me. That house is also the place they almost caught me.
I was nine. I was sleeping. I heard the door to my room creak open. I thought it was my mother, for the evil shadows did not haunt my dreams that night and I hoped they had decided to release her. When I opened my eyes, all I saw was a great shadow, portraying an old women, but demon like. I screamed and fumbled for my flashlight, and when I turned it on, the shadow demon burst into shadow flames, and then was gone. That was the last time I slept at my house, or anywhere in Connecticut for that matter. That was also the first time I had a name for the creatures that stole my mother and my two best friends. The shadow demons.
It all started the night my mother didn’t come home. I was six, and I looked out the window to the beat up old driveway until 10:00. Way past my bedtime. I crawled into bed and drifted into a restless sleep. This is the first time I saw them. They danced in and out of my vision; none of them had faces, shapes. None of them were identifiable. But there was one that I could find every time she passed. I could tell it was a she for one reason; it was my mother. These things had my mother. That’s when I woke up. I ran to my mother’s room screaming.
“Mama! Mama!” I ran to her bed and jumped on the lump under the covers. I pulled them back. There was nothing. My mother wasn’t there.
When I say nothing, I mean nothing. Nothing at all. A bottomless pit, a never-ending hole. I would fall forever until I turned old, my body would continue to fall even after death if I had jumped. I screamed and ran away from that hole. Possibly the hole that took my mother. The one that took her away from me, from her life. But I now know very well that this was not the case. That hole was placed there for me. Some other thing had taken her away from me. Something I had no name for.
If you are wondering who I am, I am Abby Terace. I am thirteen years old and have no father, he left before I was born, yet I still feel I know him. I know he has brown hair, and green eyes. I know where he works and when he moves jobs. My mother never told me anything about him, but I know his name is Mike. I can see people in my head, what they are doing and when, what they look like. This used to surprise me, but nothing much startles me anymore with the threat of being taken into an alternate dimension hanging over my head.
Over the next seven years, I would not, could not, go to school. It would be way too easy for them to track me, to capture me. I was always evasive, slept at places only once, then moved on. I have been to thirty eight of the fifty states, and once I have been through every town in all forty eight actually touching North America, I will move on to Canada, Then Mexico.
Trust? Is that allowed in the life of a runaway? Not in my book. Before I realized how dangerous these things were, everyone I saw looked like one of them. I became paranoid, and my friends noticed. I told them, and soon after, they disappeared too. These things appeared in my dreams every night, and the day my friends disappeared, they were running with the creatures and my mother. Kaya, Emily, forgive me for giving you that life.
Running isn’t actually so bad, if I had the time to stop and look around. But until the creatures are destroyed, I must keep moving, keep going. Anyone I get close to, even talk to is in danger. I haven’t had a full conversation in seven years. The only words I have said is maybe asking for my room key or responding to a question with a short to-the-point answer. Conversations aren’t necessary for success. I don’t need any money. Life gives me food if I need it. Fruits have always been able to sustain me.
I haven’t been back to my house in Norwalk Connecticut since I started to run. I don’t miss it, my worst memories occurred there. The swirling hole is always haunting me. That house is also the place they almost caught me.
I was nine. I was sleeping. I heard the door to my room creak open. I thought it was my mother, for the evil shadows did not haunt my dreams that night and I hoped they had decided to release her. When I opened my eyes, all I saw was a great shadow, portraying an old women, but demon like. I screamed and fumbled for my flashlight, and when I turned it on, the shadow demon burst into shadow flames, and then was gone. That was the last time I slept at my house, or anywhere in Connecticut for that matter. That was also the first time I had a name for the creatures that stole my mother and my two best friends. The shadow demons.
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