The Shadow Sight

Chapter Five

Charlotte entered her house and stumbled up the stairs in a daze. Never before had any boy shown even a slight interest in her, let alone actually kiss her. She didn’t quite know what to make of it.

 

In her dim bedroom, she shrugged off her backpack, kicked off her shoes, and sketchbook. If she was going to finish the drawing of her dream the previous night, she was going to have to start as soon as possible.

 

Edgar weaved between her legs as she hopped back down the stairs two at a time. He leaped up onto the back of the couch in the living room, his desperate meows echoing around the room, and slipped, tumbling off and landing on the remote with a strangled cry. With a click, the TV flipped on, displaying a female news reporter perched atop a bridge crowed with onlookers peering over the side. Edgar skittered off at the sudden blast of noise.

 

“Shocking news today as police investigate a taxi ride gone wild,” the reporter started in. “At five o’clock this morning, Marsha Wilson, a thirty year old lawyer and mother of two, climbed into a taxi cab, not knowing it would be the last thing she did. As the cab was turning a corner onto this bridge here, —“ she gestured to the overpass she was standing on—“the driver, Nathan Armstrong, lost control and plummeted over the side.” The screen cut away to video clips from various angles of the bridge and a fire that was seeming to rage on the water of the lake.

 

Charlotte slowly sank into the spotless white couch with a cocked head and parted lips.

 

The reported continued. “After the cab had hit the water, many witnesses say they saw oil leak out of the car and catch on fire. The Fire Department is fighting to contain this fire and says it should be under control by tonight.” The shot went back to the woman reporter staring intently into the camera. “Both Wilson’s and Armstrong’s bodies have been found. No one else was hurt. Police are investigating the taxi company to see who was at fault—the cab or the driver. Back to you, Paul.” The scene shifted to a rather ancient man sitting behind an expensive-looking desk, who began introducing the next segment.

 

It happened, Charlotte thought. It actually happened. The taxicab, the wet cement, the bridge and the devastating fall, even the lake of fire, that horrifying sea of hell. Her dream had just happened in real life. “Did you see that, Edgar?” Charlotte asked her cat, unable to get the image of the boiling lake rising up to meet her as she sat helpless in the back of the cab out of her head. Silence.

 

“Edgar?”

 

A low growl came shooting the down the hallway from the kitchen next door. It was a growl too low to be made by a cat and too violent to be made from her Edgar. It came again, at a pitch so resonant, she could feel it in her bones. In one swift motion and almost no sound save the creaking of the couch springs, Charlotte arose and treaded softly toward the insistent rumbling. Her bare feet padded across the carpeted room in seconds, and when she peeked around the corner, she was astonished to see nothing but a kitchen and a white cat’s back.

 

“Did you hear something Edgar?” She whispered and slowly approached him, uncertain of whether the threat was gone or if it had even been there at all.

 

Without warning or a single sound, Edgar spun around and hissed, every fur on end and tail standing straight up. Charlotte stumbled backward, slamming up against the humming refrigerator. He hissed again, a shrill blare that reverberated around the room and exploded in Charlotte’s eardrums, much too loud to be made by a creature as tiny as him. The sound seemed to be coming from all directions, shaking the world under her feet. Throwing her hands over her ears, she slid down the refrigerator door and curled up in a ball. And looked Edgar in the eye.

 

Once yellow, warm, and squinted in pleasure, they now shone black as night, empty pits of nothingness that latched onto her soul and sought to drag her heart to hell. They were black holes that try as she might, she couldn’t turn her eyes from. And as darkness seeped from the edges of her vision and agonizing pain exploded in her chest, she let off a scream that echoed around the world.

 

Then it was over, finished just as soon as it had started. Edgar shook his head so violently he staggered, and then contunued on washing himself as if nothing had happened, eyes silted and back to normal. The room was just as it had been—spotless without a trace of disorganization in sight. Charlotte herself was not harmed, though her ears rang with a dull throb. The world was as quiet and as normal as it had always been.

 

“Charlotte, what are you doing on the floor?” A disapproving voice asked of her.

 

Charlotte jumped. She hadn’t heard anyone come in. Looking up, she caught her mother’s eye. She scavenged her brain for an excuse that might serve to justify her peculiar position, but her mind was still racing and her head was still dizzy and she wasn’t sure she could think of much of anything at that moment.

 

“Get up. You’ll dirty yourself,” her mother sighed though there wasn’t a speck of dirt in sight.

 

Charlotte did as she was instructed, picking herself off the floor and slinking to her bedroom.

 

Edgar she noticed, was nowhere to be seen.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: The picture to the side is "Evil Edgar".