Chapter 2—Shadows in New Eden
1379 Words
I couldn’t stop staring at the photo on my phone.
Gia Henderson, 19, was found deceased near Riverside Park. Police are investigating the circumstances surrounding her death.
I read the article three times, each pass making my stomach twist tighter. It was her.
The girl from my dream. The same dark eyes, the same sad expression, even the same outdated clothes in the photo they’d used, like it was from an old yearbook or something.
But that was impossible. I’d dreamed about her before she died.
Or had I? Maybe I’d seen her around town before and just didn’t remember.
Maybe my brain had filed her away somewhere and pulled her out for the dream.
That had to be it. Any other explanation was too weird to consider.
“Are you okay?”
I jumped, nearly dropping my phone. Andrea was standing in my doorway, wrapped in her bathrobe, squinting at me in the darkness.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just couldn’t sleep.”
“It’s three in the morning.”
“I know. Sorry, did I wake you?”
She shook her head, padding into the room and sitting on the edge of my bed.
“You were making noise. Sounded like you were upset about something.”
“Just reading the news. Another death in the city.”
Andrea’s expression darkened. “I saw that. That poor girl. Third one this month.”
“Third?”
“You haven’t been paying attention?” She pulled her robe tighter around herself.
“Three unexplained deaths in four weeks. Plus two people missing.”
“The police are saying it’s unrelated, but people are starting to talk.”
“Talk about what?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Conspiracy theories. Serial killer. Bad drugs are going around.”
“You know how people get when scary things happen. They want explanations.”
I looked back at my phone, at Gia Henderson’s photo. “What do you think it is?”
“I think the world is a dangerous place, and sometimes bad things happen for no reason at all.”
Andrea reached over and squeezed my shoulder. “Try to get some sleep, okay? You’ve got work tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
She left, closing the door softly behind her. But I didn’t sleep.
I stayed up until dawn, scrolling through news articles about the deaths and disappearances, trying to find some pattern, some connection.
I didn’t find one.
Two days later, I saw her again.
I was at the grocery store, shopping list in hand, trying to remember if Andrea had said we needed milk or if we still had some.
I was standing in the dairy aisle, staring blankly at the rows of cartons, when I felt it.
The prickling sensation of being watched.
I turned slowly, scanning the aisle. A middle-aged woman was comparing yogurt brands.
An old man was reaching for cheese. And there, at the far end near the eggs, was the girl.
Gia Henderson.
She was wearing the same clothes from the photo. Same expression. And she was staring right at me.
My mouth went dry. My heart kicked into overdrive.
This wasn’t possible. She was dead. I’d read the article. Seen the obituary. She was dead.
I blinked hard, sure that when I opened my eyes she’d be gone.
Some trick of the light or my tired brain playing games.
But she was still there.
“Excuse me, can you move?”
I startled, realizing I was blocking someone’s way.
I mumbled an apology and stepped aside, then looked back toward the eggs.
Empty. No one was there.
I abandoned my cart and walked quickly to where she’d been standing, looking around frantically.
The old man with the cheese gave me a strange look.
“Did you see a girl?” I asked him. “Standing right here? Young, dark hair?”
The man shook his head. “Just you and me, son.”
My hands started to shake. This was bad. This was really bad.
I was seeing dead people now. Maybe I needed to talk to someone. A therapist. A doctor. Someone.
I left the store without buying anything.
The sightings didn’t stop.
Three days later, I saw her at the basketball court.
I was playing with Marcus and some other guys, running drills and shooting hoops, trying to work off the anxiety that had been building since the grocery store incident.
“Water break!” Marcus called out, breathing hard.
I jogged over to the bench where we’d left our bottles.
I was unscrewing the cap when I saw her again, standing on the other side of the chain-link fence that surrounded the court.
Just standing. Watching.
“Hey Marcus,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual. “You see that girl over there?”
Marcus followed my gaze. “Where?”
“By the fence. Dark hair, kind of old-fashioned clothes.”
“Man, I don’t see anyone. Are you feeling alright? You’ve been weird all week.”
I looked back at the fence. She was still there, hands clasped in front of her, eyes locked on mine.
“Yeah,” I lied. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Are you sure? Because you look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”
The word ghost made my blood run cold. I forced a laugh that sounded hollow even to my own ears.
“Nah, just need more sleep, probably. Come on, let’s finish the game.”
We played for another hour, but I couldn’t focus.
Every time I glanced at the fence, she was there. Not moving. Not blinking. Just watching.
When we finally packed up to leave, I looked one more time.
She was gone.
That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to convince myself I wasn’t losing my mind.
There had to be a rational explanation. Stress. Lack of sleep. Grief manifesting in weird ways.
I wasn’t seeing ghosts. Ghosts weren’t real.
I repeated that to myself like a mantra until my eyes finally grew heavy and sleep started to pull me under.
Then my lamp flickered.
Once. Twice. Three times.
My eyes snapped open. I sat up slowly, every muscle tense, and looked around the dark room.
Nothing seemed out of place. Just my normal bedroom. Just my normal life.
I was about to lie back down when I noticed the mirror.
It hung on the wall opposite my bed, a plain rectangular thing that Andrea had put there years ago. I usually ignored it.
But now, in the dim light from the street lamp outside, I could see something in its reflection.
Someone.
Standing behind me.
I spun around so fast I nearly fell out of bed. But there was no one there. The space behind me was empty.
Heart hammering, I looked back at the mirror.
She was still there in the reflection. Gia Henderson. Standing at the foot of my bed, even though the actual space was empty.
Her dark eyes met mine in the glass, and for the first time, her lips moved.
No sound came out, but I could read the words on her lips.
Help them.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but stare at this impossible thing happening in front of me.
Please, her reflection mouthed. Help them.
“Who?” I whispered. “Help who?”
But she was already fading, growing translucent, disappearing into nothing.
Within seconds, the mirror showed only my own terrified reflection and my empty bedroom behind me.
I sat frozen for a long time, waiting for my heart to stop trying to break through my ribcage.
Then, moving slowly like I was afraid I might shatter the moment, I got up and walked to the mirror.
I reached out and touched the cool glass. Solid. Real. Normal.
But nothing about this was normal.
Nothing about any of this was normal.
Outside my window, a siren wailed in the distance. Another ambulance rushing to another emergency. Another person dead or missing or hurt in ways that couldn’t be explained.
And somehow, impossibly, I knew it was all connected.
The girl. The deaths. The dreams. Me.
I just didn’t know how yet.
- Writer
