Shadowed 10/31/21 page 160
Shadowed (work in progress) Nate wonders if he is being shadowed by the spirit of his friend
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I woke up around two this morning and heard the thump of a basketball on cement with the occasional clank of a ball hitting the rim, just like I’d heard it that first time, and maybe a few times since then. I tried to convince myself I was imagining everything, and to just stay in bed, but the thumps and the clanks just kept coming.
I got up, crept to my window, and looked out. There it was--the crooked hoop that Bill had hammered six inches too high into the telephone pole. Behind it, the branches of the big corkscrew willow by your shed were moving in the wind, causing shadows to dance on the street and on my bedroom ceiling. As I looked closer, though, I thought I saw a person--you--moving among the shadows.
I stared harder, trying to bring things into focus. Sometimes you were there and sometimes you weren’t. Finally, my eyes went blurry. I stepped back from the window, let the curtain fall closed, and took a few deep breaths. I reopened the curtain, my pulse throbbing behind my ears. I looked.
An empty street, the hoop, the tree, shadows. I returned to bed, but once I lay down, the thump-thump-thump of a basketball hitting pavement came back.
***************
I woke up around two this morning and heard the thump of a basketball on cement with the occasional clank of a ball hitting the rim, just like I’d heard it that first time, and maybe a few times since then. I tried to convince myself I was imagining everything, and to just stay in bed, but the thumps and the clanks just kept coming.
I got up, crept to my window, and looked out. There it was--the crooked hoop that Bill had hammered six inches too high into the telephone pole. Behind it, the branches of the big corkscrew willow by your shed were moving in the wind, causing shadows to dance on the street and on my bedroom ceiling. As I looked closer, though, I thought I saw a person--you--moving among the shadows.
I stared harder, trying to bring things into focus. Sometimes you were there and sometimes you weren’t. Finally, my eyes went blurry. I stepped back from the window, let the curtain fall closed, and took a few deep breaths. I reopened the curtain, my pulse throbbing behind my ears. I looked.
An empty street, the hoop, the tree, shadows. I returned to bed, but once I lay down, the thump-thump-thump of a basketball hitting pavement came back.
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