“Daddy, I saw something walking outside.”
It was dark as we loaded up the car to head up north. My daughter whispered these words to me as I buckled her into her car seat.
“It was the Light Master,” she continues. “And it had eyes! It was walking on the other side of the street. Did you see it?”
My daughter is 3.
What do I tell her, when I’m suddenly too afraid to look across the street myself? Should I tell her I checked and didn’t see anything? If I didn’t actually see anything, would I be lying to her?
As I reflect on this situation now a year later, I can’t decide what would have been more horrific: Lying to my daughter, or actually seeing some mishappen crouched figure, a crooked shadow stalking the foreground of horror across the street. A dark, shifting indescribable shape, darker than the woods behind it. Haunting and taunting.
I know you see me. Your daughter does, too. But you can’t tell her that, you know. No, no, no nononono – you can’t. You wouldn’t dare. No one will believe you. And you can’t tell your daughter I’m real. She won’t sleep. You’ll go to bed thinking about me. Wondering if I was real. If I was a trick on the eyes. Or if I was real what that would actually mean. Am I just waiting for you at your house? Or did I follow you. Do I follow you everywhere you go. In the ravines on the side of the highway. In the shadows of bridges and overpasses.
“I don’t see anything, Sweetie,” I say.
“SHHHHHH!!!!” she whispers. “Listen!” She grabbed my cheeks, pulled my face close. A curious terror in her eyes.
Oh, but so real I am. I’m right here. Can’t you see?
“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Sweetie.”
Oh but so wrong you are yes so wrong be afraid very afraid the kiddos feed off that. But on second thought no no no nonononono there’s no monster here Daddy is right no monster here but wait until the right time yes the right time we will wait we wait wait wait.
I turned back, seeing a shadow, but it was only my own. Nothing there. But maybe I did see something moving in the woods across the street. Something like a tall black line moving against the trees. Just out of my sight, of course. Just beyond my imagination.
I’m. Right. Here.
Note: This is a true story – my daughter actually told me this as I was putting her in her car seat.