• I was only six years old when my grandfather died. It was on my birthday and as I’ve been told I was the last one to see him. As a kid I couldn’t quite understand all the things that had happened, it didn’t bother me really. Life continued on, just without grandpa there. I still watched TV but no one was there to explain baseball to me. I still came home from school everyday at three, but I no longer got to hear stories about grandpa’s childhood. The only thing that really made me notice that he would never bee back was his work shed. Everyday he was there for hours. I never got to go in; the only thing I could see in that shed was the single light bulb that swung back and forth in the small window above the door. Now the shed was dark… it was always dark.

    The light stayed off for years, the building grew older but always seemed sturdy. The grass and bushes almost overtook it, but I was the only one who noticed, or cared. My parents would always look passed the shed and if they spoke of it at all it was in a hurried whisper.

    My dad wanted to have it torn down, but my mother refused. She would just say that it was pointless and left it at that. “It’s just a shed, why can’t we use it like grandpa used to?” I remember asking that question to my parents once in my childish ignorance.

    My mother shook me and yelled, “Don’t you ever go near there, do you hear me? Don’t you ever go near it!” I nodded frantically; all I wanted was for her to let me go. I could feel her nails digging into my skin. After I finally pulled my arms free I ran to my room, tears in my eyes. She never apologized to me and I never so much as mentioned the shed again.

    I was a child tough, I didn’t know any better. When my parents went out, the temptation, the curiosity, the sheer rush of doing what I was told not to, became almost overpowering. It started off as a simple game between me and my friends. See who was brave enough to put their back on the shed, knock on the door or even climb the ledge and stare into the dark. Eventually all my friends stopped coming over. Some said their parents wouldn’t let them, a couple said they were hurt but most were just too scared to come back. So life got boring, I didn’t have any friends and I never really understood why. Hadn’t I done all the things they had? That alone was all that bothered me. For nearly an entire summer all I did was sit in my room and look out the window down onto the shed. Every once in a while a shadow would play across the window filling my imagination with the darkest of thoughts. I left it alone though, for that summer anyways. My mother knew it was on my mind, she rarely spoke to me. I slowly felt like she was beginning to hate me. My fears were not put to rest when summer ended and I was sent away to boarding school.

    I knew I would get to come on at the end of the semester, but I was never able to look at my mother the same way. She didn’t even see me off to my new school, my new life.

    I tried to forget everything after I was sent away, tried to block it out. And for a while I did. I forgot about my mother, my father and my home. I just studied and laughed with my new friends. It was an act, but at least life was good again… until the nightmares started. It stated later on in the school year, I would wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, breathing so hard that it felt like I was running. At first I had no idea what had me so worked up but as the dreams continued, I started seeing brief glimpses of a door. The paint peeling so much that you could hardly call it painted. The light would buzz and flicker on and the door would start to open. Then I would awake, not completely sure where I was.

    All those forgotten memories, those memories I was trying so hard to block out. They floored me. I started turning in all my school with rough sketches of the shed on the back. My grades started slipping and even my new found friends noticed a change; mainly I didn’t laugh anymore. Then one night it happened. I saw everything as clear as day. The sun was up, but it was quickly setting. I was standing in front the rickety building reaching up for its door. It opened to reveal a dark room; mirrors were all I could see. They were everywhere, walls, ceiling and even a few broken ones on the floor. Reflections of reflections, but for some reason I couldn’t see myself. Toward the end of the room was an old work bench, dilapidated and nearly buckling from the weight of the rusty tools.

    I took a step forward into the room, I was trembling in fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the anticipation, fear of everything and anything. There a loud humming and a dull light that poured from a crack under the work bench. All the mirrors shimmered in the light that kept growing brighter, while the sun outside grew darker. The humming was almost deafening and I turned to run. As I tried to get out the door a hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. It was grandfather wearing the suit he was buried in, dirt covered and all. I opened my mouth to scream, but all I could hear was his voice deep and cold, “Come to me, son… Follow me!”

    And then I woke up. Everything was quiet and an unusual calm washed over me. I lay in bed the rest of the night unable to sleep. My mind kept playing the dream over and over and I couldn’t help but wonder how I was supposed to follow my grandfather. He was dead and in theory, I still had a long ways to go.

    When my dad picked me up at the end of the year, it wasn’t a joyous occasion as I had expected. I was a teenager and I hadn’t seen my parents in nearly a year. My dad never stopped lecturing me on how horrible I was doing in school and my mom wasn’t even there. I don’t know why I expected something different.

    Home was the same as well. My room was exactly how I left. The garage was just as messy and cluttered as ever. And after an awkward hug from my mother I ran to the window in my room. The shed was still there, but now it windows were boarded up and bushes and weeds were nearly as tall as it. Everything was covered; no was in, but I guess no way out as well.

    I stayed at the window for what felt like a life time. It wasn’t until I heard my father call me down for supper that I actually looked away. I was still having those eerie dreams every night but by the end of supper, I decided it was time to see the shed for myself.

    It wasn’t an easy task by any means. I had no idea what would happen if I got caught. I was already going to boarding school; I assumed military academy was next, unless they just disowned me and sent me to some distant relative in Kentucky.

    I eased open the backdoor a little after two in the morning. Both my parents were sound asleep, I it didn’t matter; they hated me already, it was best they had a reason. The moon was hiding behind a never ending stream of clouds, which caused the grass and trees to sparkle with sporadic light. The clouds moved in and out, but I didn’t feel any wind as I walked toward the shed. The air was warm and stale, it was the old shack decided to breathe out as soon as it saw me.

    I walked toward the door, I knew it would be locked but I could break through the small window above the door. It only had one small plank covering it and I was pretty sure I could pry that off.

    I turned the giant flower pot over, the soil my grandmother tilled before her death spilled all over the walk. I stepped up, shaking so badly I felt as if a light breeze would be able to knock me over.

    The board feel off with almost no effort. This was the closest I had been the shed since my grandfather died and even then, I never went inside. I slid the window open and with all the braver I could summon I hoisted myself into the dark.

    The plunge to the floor was a leap of faith. I had no idea if there were spikes waiting to impale me or even if there was a floor. It was with a thud and then a slip that I knew I was inside.

    It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the darkness and even then I couldn’t make any thing out that more then a foot in front of me. I reached into my pocket fumbling for my dad’s lighter. With a couple of goofy strokes, a light filled the room with a soft orange glow. Everything was covered in dust and cobwebs. Even the air seemed as if dust was beginning to pile on it. I ran my fingers along a work table as I inched forward. Out of the corner of my eye a light flashed and I turned to see what it was. I fell to the floor to afraid to scream at the man standing there. My lighter went out and I frantically swatted at it, trying my best to turn it back on. Every second the man was one step closer, any second he’d be on me and then the lighter flickered on; no one was there, only a mirror. “Great! I’m scared of my own shadow.” I pulled myself up trying my best to get some of the dust off.

    And that’s when I heard the voice. “Sometimes it’s wise to be scared of a shadow.”

    I spun around holding my light in front of me like it was a shield. No one was there. But a cold laughter resounded about the room. “Show yourself.” I tried to my best to sound mean and powerful, but all I heard was a meager squeak.

    “What’s the matter, boy? Ask politely and act like you’ve got some manners.”

    I started to back up towards the door; it was getting hard to breathe. My light was casting eerie shadows on the walls but the shadows were slowly disappearing. There was another light in the room; I just couldn’t see where it was coming from. “Where are you going, boy?” The voice was becoming stern. “Sit down and let us have a chat.”

    A great forced knocked me to the ground and pulled me to the middle of the room. There he was, a man wearing an old grey suit with slicked back hair, jet black. I was staring at his reflection in the mirror; I was unable to run around. Behind him the orange light flared bright as the sun, but the room was lit up wrong. The light was pouring on me, everything else was still dark. It was a vague recollection that the mirror was showing me something… something… that shouldn’t have been there. “Now boy, tell me why have you come?” It wasn’t a mirror, it was window…

    “Speak!!!” His voice was now growling impatience. “Now!” The unseen force pulled me from the ground and hoisted me into the air.

    I was so scared and I screamed the only words that came to me, “I don’t know.”

    The man laughed half heartedly and I was dropped back to the ground. “Yes you do. Just give it some thought. Tell me everything and everything can be yours. Why have you come?”

    I wanted to run away, to hide, but something made me stay and stare into his gaze. “I miss my grandfather, sir. I just want to know why he was always here and why my parents dislike it so much.

    The man’s grin widened but for some reason I couldn’t help but tremble in fear. He pointed to a dark corner on the far end of the building. I don’t know why but I turned around and walked toward the darkness.

    I no longer heard a voice, but I felt urgings in my head. “Follow me, boy. Learn from me. Finish what was started.”

    A tarp covered some large object that I had overlooked before, seemingly discarded. I reached up and pulled it off.

    Beneath it laid a steel gate covering a hole just large enough for one person to squeezes through. I looked back at the man in the mirror with a very bewildered look on my face. He just smiled.

    “Open it boy…” the man’s voice trailed on but I stopped listening when I realized my hand was reaching for the latch. It was like my body was moving without my input. I was on auto pilot and the plane was going down. I grasped the latch, lifted upwards and a deep low hum started.

    I started to cry as I pulled it open, I don’t know why. I wasn’t sobbing or breathing funny, just the tears. There was a vast space of nothing behind the gates. There was an unnatural darkness with a faint orange light at the very end. It went back for what seemed like miles, nothing there. No trees or bushes that should have been right outside the shed. No nighttime sky or even a stray breeze. Nothing, save for the pale orange light which was growing brighter and coming toward me.

    I was so scared that I gave in and allowed my knees to give in, but they didn’t; they took a step forward. I started to scream louder then I’ve ever been able to. The light was coming closer and quicker bringing unspeakable shapes and shadows with it. It was getting hard to breather, yet I still screamed. The light grew brighter but my vision became dimmer.

    “You are the same as your grandfather, boy!” The voice resounded through the room and even the tunnel. “A bit curious and completely unaware of when to turn back!” The hum was almost deafening, like a motorcycle was right beside me. I still heard the voice, as clear as ever. God only knows if it was just voices in my head.

    The lights and shadows were on me, I could hear them growl. I was passing out, everything was spinning and before I was completely gone I felt hands on my shoulders pulling me back. The shadows nipped at my toes as the gate slammed shut. I was still being dragged when I looked up to see my savior or captor and their stood my grandfather smiling down at me. I tried to smile back but all I managed was blacking out.

    When I woke up, I was outside on my back staring at the stars. My mother was kneeling, shaking me. I tried to get up, but before I could move my mother was pulling me into a loving embrace, which I hadn’t felt in years. She was genuinely concerned for me. I looked over her shoulder to see my dad frantically grabbing the water hose from the side of the house. He ran back toward us, the water spraying everywhere. Fog was starting to roll in as he ran past, or at least I thought it was fog. The smell of something burning became evident. That’s when it came together for me, the shed was burning. My mother was rocking because she thought I had died, I guess in way with the burning of the shed, part of me did.

    I don’t remember much of that night. It all comes back to me in faded blurs. I do however remember the next morning very well. My mother was yelling between sobs and my dad kept shaking his head, “I thought I taught you better son.” After an hour of lectures and yelling, I was sent to my room. They barely talked to me for the rest of the week. It didn’t help that I wasn’t allowed to leave my room for anything other then meals and the bathroom. I wasn’t all that surprised when they told me I would be attending Westwood Prep Military Academy.

    It took me a long time to forgive my parents, but now I realize they were trying their best to raise me they just didn’t understand. They didn’t want to. I had trouble coping with it as well. Maybe my parents were right, maybe it was just a dream and I set the shed on fire. Maybe I was crazy and unstable. I thought that way for a while and the constant pains of Westwood didn’t help. I was on a downward spiral in a sense until that day I found the letter on my bed.

    It was a plain white envelope with my name on the center. I opened it slowly not really sure what it was about. Surprises were not my forte. The letter read:

    “Life tends to throw more at you then you’re willing or able to take. This is the truth kiddo, but I’m sure by now you know this. You control how you handle it though, there is no fate. You control the good and the bad. I didn’t handle your grandmother’s death well. You never met her, but I promise you that she was the sweetest woman to have ever graced this planet. When she died I refused to let it be. I did bad things my boy. And I’m paying for it now, but that’s okay because you’ll be able to do all the things I couldn’t. You can walk away from my evils and live life the way I should have. Don’t forget me in your prayers and place a rose on your grandmother’s grave. I love you son and I always will. Gramps.

    I read the letter five times before I tucked it away under my bed. I’ve read it everyday since then and I never forget to bring my grandparents roses on the holidays. You can’t control was life gives you, but I’m trying to handle it the best I can.