Hairwolf

“...Where are you?”

“I’m on the back porch looking for Ben Herr. Come on, kitty, kitty.”

“Come on, kitty, kitty.” Tucked within her wool-lined, denim jacket, ten-year-old Stef stands transfixed on something strange out in the wheat fields. It’s early evening and what holds her gaze is silhouetted by the full moon cresting the horizon. She’s waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness to identify what it is. Out here, there’re no houses. No city lights. This is farm land, Arkansas. The landscape is flat and offers an unimpeded view to the horizon. If it wasn’t for the moonlight, she’d be staring out under an endless expanse of stars. But the backlighting from the moon is revealing a strange and unfamiliar object in the middle of the backyard. “Can’t be a fence post. Hey Ralf. Did your dad put a fence post in the back yard recently?”

“No,” replies Ralf, from inside the house.

She bobs and weaves attempting to adjust her vantage point from the porch but it doesn’t help. What has captured her gaze is a near perfect silhouette of what could be the upper portion of a person standing in the tall grass, motionless, looking straight at her. But the left ear appears to be missing a piece from the tip so it can’t be a person. “That’s odd.” As her eyes adjust to the darkness, more and more details begin to stand out. She can clearly see the outline of a head, and a thick neck sitting on top of what could be some very broad shoulders. “If it wasn’t for that funny looking ear,” she says almost giggling,” you could really, really be real. Like monster real,” she says with excitement. “What are you? Oh! The scarecrow.”

As she makes her way down the stairs to the yard she notices something leaning up against the

side of the house. She freezes, eyes wide and, “well, it’s not the scarecrow.” She slowly back-steps

her way up to the safety of the porch. Now she’s really getting excited – and scared. But that’s

what makes it so much fun. At least for her. “What are you?”

She’s at Ralf’s house. Well, his parent’s house. She loves it here. She gets to farm and help with the chores from time to time which is how she knows this thing in the back field doesn’t belong here. With the scarecrow leaning on the side of the house there isn’t much else it could be. And that’s the part that’s exciting. Deep down she knows there’s a logical explanation that would explain everything but then all the fun would be gone. And so the battle begins. She has to figure this out before relenting and going out there and seeing for herself.

“I love shadow-mades and you’re a good one.”

“”Shadow-mades”” are a thing kids make out of shadows. The scarier the better. Sometimes they take on a shape all their own without the help of someone’s imagination, such as this one. The best kinds are silhouettes made from clothes draped over a chair or hanging on a coat rack in a dark corner. They get noticed because they’re really not supposed to be there. The scarier the shadow-made is, the more tempting it is to try and figure it out. But once you do, the fun is over. So the objective is to hold out as long as possible before revealing its true identity. And to do that means you have to turn on the lights or in this case, get really up close to it. And that could be just as much fun. It takes a creative imagination to make a shadow-made. Not so much with a cloud-made. They’re brighter, fuller and the shape is usually already made up for you. because clouds are brighter and constantly moving.

Stef pulls her hair out from under her coat and flips up her collar, feeling a slight chill. She looks back at it her shadow-made.

From inside, Ralf, sarcastically remarks, “You know, Stef, around here we have to actually call the cat to get it to come.”

“Come on, Ben Herr. Kitty kitty. Hey Ralf, I found a shadow-made in your field. I’m going to call it, Ominous. It’s really cool.”

“I’d get up and look but I’m busy working on your necklace. You know, the one where I

asked you to help me with?”

“You started without me? You were supposed to wait.”

“No need. I got it,” he replies.

“I’ll be right in. I want to see if I can make another shadow-made. Come on, Ben? Kitty, kitty.”

She searches for more shadow-mades but nothing is standing out like her Ominous. She swats at the mosquitos vying for her blood. Then she notices movement in the field. Stef is very surprised. It’s her shadow-made, Ominous. And it moved. It’s not supposed to move. It looks as if it’s sinking. Getting lower and lower below the grass line. At least that’s what it looks like. It’s not as tall as it was moments earlier.

“What the …?” She’s up on her tippy toes, trying to keep an eye on it but it disappears into the grass.

“Oh, no you didn’t!” She bounces down the rear steps into the back yard and marches through the tall grass, sweeping away the sharp blades. This is familiar territory for her. She and Ralf play here all the time so there’s nothing to be afraid of – that she knows of.

She steps onto a small mound, allowing an over-all view of the field to look for her shadow-made. It’s nowhere to be found. She does a slow turn, covering the entire field only to come back around and find Ominous back up over the grass and a little closer.

“Okay. That didn’t just happen. Well, actually it did,” she says to herself.

It’s down to the wire for her now. If she gets any closer the fun will be over because she’ll know the source. And then she’ll feel stupid. Stupid, that she didn’t hold out. Stupid, that she was outsmarted by a shadow. A shadow she made. And that’s not going to happen. After all, a person has their pride. And hers runs deep. She stands there, eyes locked on this shadow-made that appears to be staring back at her. She keeps looking up at the moon, watching as it moves slower and slower across the sky. Soon, it will change the shape of her creation and all will be revealed. At least that’s what she’s thinking. But the more she looks at it the more she notices little details. Details such as it appears to be taller. And it looks like ruffled hair around the ears and top of the head. And the air is waving from the breeze.

She’s about twenty feet away and she’s growing more and more curious as well as scared. Yeah, she’s scared now. A chill rifles through her body as she snuggles into the white wool lining of her denim coat. “You’re not going to win this one,” she says adamantly. “You hear me? I know what you are. And as soon as the moon rises a little more your secret will be revealed.” She checks the moon once again and - “Or maybe not.” A thick, puffy white cloud is about to threaten complete

darkness as it passes in front of the moon. Another look at Ominous and she realizes something about him is looking a little too real to be fake. It’s as if Ominous is breathing. If she knows anything, shadow-mades don’t breath. But then again, if it’s a plastic bag and it has air filling it up it can give the illusion of breathing. An uneasy feeling washes over her, raising the tiny hairs on her neck and arms which cause her to shiver. This is a different feeling than just being scared. She knows this feeling. The teachers speak of it all the time in school. It’s called, leaving your comfort zone. But this is her field. Hers and Ralf’s, not Ominous’.

“This is ridiculous,” she tells herself. “Come on, Stef. It’s a shadow-made. What else can it be? All right. Gonna go now. Here we go. One small step for Schteffy girl, one large step for . . .”

“Meow,” cries Ben Herr, scaring Stef to death. She stepped on his tail. Both make a beeline to the house. Stef laughs, yelling, “you scared the heck out of me, Ben.”

Ben runs to the porch with Stef close behind, “I’ll bet you were just waiting to get me, weren’t you? Come here, kitty. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

She takes a seat and hugs him but he wants to go inside. Stef stands at the top of the stairs and looks out into the darkness for her shadow-made but the thick cloud as darkened everything.

She waits patiently for it to pass. As it does, Ominous is gone.

“Oh, no! You had your chance,” Stef says. “I’m not falling for that again.”

Abigail, Ralf’s mom, steps onto the porch from the house, wearing a pullover apron. She’s a woman of thirty, farm worn and healthy. Ralf follows behind her. He’s a large boy for ten, red hair and cute as a button. He pauses in the door frame, scratching his upper back against the door jam.

“Who you talking to, Stef?” asks Abigail.

“My shadow-made. It was right there but now it’s gone. The moon.”

“There you go. Blame it on the moon,” Ralf says. “You’re the one acting like a lunatic and it’s the moon’s fault.”

Both Abigail and Stef stare at him, blank faced.

“Eh, eh! Get it?” he quips. “Luna – tick.” He returns to the inside, with, “there’ll be another show at seven. Bring the kids and someone to explain the humor.” He stops at the door for another scratch.

“What humor?” asks Stef.

Abigail laughs out loud. They high-five.

“Damn it,” Ralf complains unable to reach his itch. He enters the kitchen, asking, “Hey, Stef, see what’s back there. Something’s scratching the hell out of me.”

Abigail exits to the bathroom, “Language, mister. . .” leaving Stef to check on Ralf’s back. She pulls down his shirt collar and notices several strands of long hair retreating back into his skin. “Whoa,” she says alarmed.