Vicky Shi (9) | STAFF REPORTER
I’ll never forget his devilish grin, the rouge stained on his pale cheeks like the Joker, and that sing-song voice that could bring an avalanche down from the mountains. Not even in death will that image fade from my mind—how could it? It was the last thing I saw before falling asleep and the first to creep back into my sight with the dawning light. It consumed my every thought, becoming my entire world. It was my beginning and my end, the only thing I lived for. It was…
It was late one evening, nearing the end of fall with a chill hanging in the air. Every breath emerged as puffs of smoke, dissolving into the night. Perhaps it had just rained—that would explain my mud-streaked boots and soaked jacket. I remember small puddles reflecting warm, rosy light on either side of the streets. Each puddle, no matter how small or shadowed, seemed to mirror that… thing. That atrocious smile and dilated pupils the color of crimson. Her footsteps echoed mine, a comfort against the fear that the figure might slip behind me. As long as I wasn’t alone, maybe it wouldn’t appear. I clasped her hand out of instinct, a habit I’d built over the years whenever he came around.
“Do you think he’s there?” I asked, glancing towards an unnaturally dark patch of shadows. She didn’t answer, but simply gripped my hand as if to say she’d be there, whether he was present or not.
“He’s always in my dreams, there the moment I wake up and the last thing I see when I fall asleep. Yet… I don’t think I’ve ever truly seen him,” I continued. “So, how is he always there, wherever I turn?” I looked over to her, but night had fallen so deeply that she was just a blot of shadows. Trying to make out her face in the dark, all I could see was the soft rouge stained on her pale cheeks, and those muted red eyes smiling back.
