Short Stories and Tall Tales

Under the Darkened Streetlight

Alex was always afraid of the dark. For as long as I could remember, he slept with his closet light on, and a nightlight in the corner. As we grew older, I thought he would grow out of it like any other childhood fear. But he left two lights on until the day he died.

"Why do you always leave the light on? Doesn't it keep you up at night?" I asked late one night. Mom and Dad were out for the night, so we had the house to ourselves. All the more reason to ask him, or so I thought.

"No, it really doesn't," Alex replied, shaking his head. He stood silent for a moment, eyes boring holes into the floor. "Did... did Dad ever tell you about how Uncle John died?"

I frowned and shook my head. "Uncle John? I didn't know we had an uncle." When I finally caught my brother's eye again, there was a look of terror that I'd never seen before, and never would see again. "What happened to him?"

Alex let out a long, whispery sigh, as if he was bracing himself against some weight in his mind. "Yeah, Uncle John. He died before you were born, but nobody could explain why. Dad doesn't like to talk about him, probably because he thinks he was responsible for it."

"Responsible? Responsible how?"

"Dani, you really don't want to know this story, trust me-"

"Dammit Alex, just tell me!" I shouted, startling myself as much as my brother. I felt my hand clamp my mouth shut, and I fell into my seat at the dining room table. Alex lowered himself into the chair next to mine, the shock of my outburst evident on his pale face. "I'm sorry, Alex-"

"No, I'm the one who should be sorry," he cut in. "I should have told you this story before. Or Dad. Or somebody. But that's beside the point."

Alex let out a slow breath, bracing himself once more. "The night Uncle John died, he had gotten into an argument with Dad. What it was about, I don't know, and probably never will. But what I do know is this:

"John got angry with Dad, and left their parents' house to go clear his head. So he walked to the corner store, and just collapsed outside the storefront window. The owner saw John fall, and ran out to see what happened, but John was dead before they could even dial 911."

Alex took another deep breath, trying to steady his voice. "The police found a security camera with footage of the whole thing from across the street. As John got to the store, the street light just behind him went out. Uncle John stopped, looked over his shoulder, and dropped dead."

"Oh my God," I stammered, the words barely a whisper.

"Yeah," Alex continued. "That's why I keep the light on when I go to sleep, why I never leave the house without a flashlight. I don't want to die like Uncle John, alone in the dark like someone flipped a switch. And I don't want it for you, either, Dani.

"So promise me: If you're walking down the street and the light behind you goes out, *do not* look behind you, whatever you do. Please, Dani." The fear in Alex's eyes was almost more than I could handle, and I pulled my brother into a tight hug.

"I promise," I half spoke, half sobbed into Alex's shoulder, desperately trying to choke down the terror that clouded my mind. We sat there for what seemed like hours before dragging ourselves into bed.

--

That was eight years ago. Today is Alex's funeral. He would've been 27 tomorrow.

The phone call from the police department is one I will never forget for as long as I live. Some officer or another introducing himself on the phone, asking me to come in to identify the body of a man who they believe to be Alex Davison. My brother, dead, just as suddenly as Uncle John, and just as horrifically.

What else could I do? I went to the station, my heart ruined, and saw my brother's corpse on a cold metal slab. I guess I went into shock after that, because I can't remember a thing from when I first saw Alex on that table to when I saw the security footage of his death.

The video wrenched me back to reality, as I saw Alex walk down the dimly lit street. I guess the camera had recorded audio, because I heard a pop, and watched in horror as Alex jumped, and looked behind him into the dark spot under the ruined streetlight. Time seemed to slow, as my brother appeared to stiffen, standing straight as a board, before crumpling in a heap to the sidewalk.

--

It's dark outside. I couldn't bring myself to say goodbye at Alex's funeral, too afraid of letting go of my brother. There's an empty bottle of wine on the living room floor, and my tears are beginning to water down the one in my hand.

I have to get out of my apartment, even for just a few moments to clear my head. Alex wouldn't have wanted me to remember him like this, a cold body on a colder table. No, if he were still here, he'd tell me to get up, get some fresh air, get a bit to eat. He always knew what to say when times were hard, when I was at my wit's end. Guess I should take the advice.

I grab a jacket off the coat rack, and lock the door behind me. The chill winter air cuts through my tipsy haze for a moment, and I'm finally able to think for a moment. I pick a direction and start walking, hoping the cold air will help with the grief.

"Alex, are you there?" I hear myself saying. I know he won't answer--can't answer--but I say it anyways, letting my goodbye out in steamy breaths. "I can't believe you're gone. I thought my brother would be around forever, that you'd always be there for me when I needed you. And God, do I need you right now."

I walk aimlessly down side streets and alleyways, talking to no one in particular, hoping my ramblings will reach my brother, wherever he wound up. I can feel my tears freezing on my cheeks, but I ignore them, if only to put on a brave face for my brother's memory. Eventually, I wind up back on the main street, well lit and cheery and glittering with holiday decorations.

"So, I guess this is it," I mumble, tears welling up anew in my eyes. I sit down on a bench in the pale yellow glow of a streetlight, and let grief flood through my whole body. After what seems like hours, the sobs turn to whimpers, and the dry heaves of the broken heart finally subside. I stand up shakily, holding on to the lamppost for support, and say a final farewell to my brother.

Bleary eyed and exhausted, I trudge toward my apartment. I almost reach the porch when I hear an ear-splitting crack, and notice the street light behind me go out, my feet suddenly shrouded in darkness. I cower in fear, thinking someone just tried to shoot me, then break the one promise I ever made to my brother.

Panicking, I look over my shoulder, hoping the sudden darkness was nothing more than a blown fuse. Then I see it: under the darkened street lamp, a massive black... thing, so dark that I can barely make the shape of it out. It looks to be almost human, but the arms are far too long. Fear grips my heart, and I desperately try to look away, but I can't move. I can hear someone or some*thing* chuckling in my mind, and I can only assume that the thing in the dark is mocking me.

The thing makes a gesture with one arm, claws far too long to be fingers curling in a "come hither" motion. My mind blanks, totally petrified by fear, and I feel myself turning towards the dark thing, straightening to my full height. The thing beckons again, and a booming voice in my mind gives a single command.

<COME>

I feel myself being torn apart, as my mind is ripped from my skull. For a moment I black out from the agony of it all, but it quickly stops, and I look back to see my body, stiff as a board, standing on the sidewalk. I feel a tug, and start to float away from my earthly form towards the dark thing.

If you can hear me, Alex, I'm sorry.

====

This story is a response to the writing prompt found at the link below:

https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9es0e2/wp_my_brother_always_told_me_if_youre_walking/?st=jlycqi30&sh=35d03107

Thank you all for reading! Votes, comments, and shares are always appreciated!