Marc Samuel: He'd get over it. Once Aaliyah finally showed up. We were all the best of friends, but we hadn't invited her to our weekly sleepovers yet, until now. Grandma and I lived in Underwood Hills, a neighborhood in Buckhead, in Northern Atlanta. The small cozy homes rose on each side of the sidewalk as we passed by. Kids jumped off school buses spilling into the road and onto the pavement, talking in groups as if thunder hadn't just sounded in the sky. When we got to a stop sign, about 300 feet from our bus stop, we turned left. A sly look passed through Zion's Hazel eyes. Speaking of tradition, we might as well. Nope, I said, mimicking Zion's high voice. You know, the attic is off-limits. It wasn't off-limits when. It is, I said, cutting him off, and we're not going up there either. But why? He wind.

We used to read the book of Shadani all the time. You know, before. Remember the queen, her sister, and Shedani. It almost seemed real every time we read it. I know and remember the demons, the gods, the palace. Please, please, Cam. It wouldn't hurt to just take one look. We hadn't been to the attic in two years. Not since I'd lost my parents to a car crash. What would a quick peak hurt? But still, grandma had forbidden us to go up there. No, Zion. Zion grumbled underneath his breath, party popper. Grandma's brick house appeared at the top of the hill. I touched Zion's shoulder and turned him around, ignoring the rain. Listen, don't bring up the book with Aaliyah. I'm serious. Grandma was clear when she locked it away. But reading it was our friend thing. A twinge of sadness pierced my chest. As I thought about mama and grandma reading it to me when I was younger.

When I met Zion, he had joined in. It was something that had connected us even more. I liked reading it too, but rules are rules. Rules are meant to be broken though Zion said. I sizzle. Pop. Lightning struck the ground near where we stood next to the apple tree in grandma's backyard. We both jumped and screamed, covering our faces as the light-filled our eyes. What the. What was that? Zion said, clinging to me. A crack appeared in the sidewalk where the lightning had struck. A dark shadow ran across my vision as I stared at grandma's house. The rain shower stopped falling. As if someone had pressed pause. The apparition took on a monstrous humanoid shape right next to the old shed in the backyard.

It was dark, tall, and obscured by shadows. What is that? I said, but my voice out in my throat, as the figure started to move toward us, I let out a squeak of fear as a memory tingled in my mind. But I wasn't able to fully capture it before I made a grab for Zion and yelled run. My arm grasped only air as I ran towards the woods surrounding grandma's house. Zion ran far in front of me.

I pumped my legs, burning with my every step as a hissing sound came from behind me. Don't look back, Cameron. Don't look back. I looked back anyway. The shadowy figure grew in size surrounding me in smoke. As soon as I hit the covering of the trees, my sneakers became slick with grass and dirt, and my leg twisted on a branch. I yelped as I fell the shadow moving closer. As I grabbed at my leg, I tried to stand. Zion, I cried out as the shadow grew legs running toward me. I thought I could make out the word book coming from its non-existent mouth as it barreled my way. The memory tinged again so, close yet too far away.

The shadow got closer, and I shut my eyes. Sure this was the end. Pressure built under my armpits as I was pulled across the wet dirt. Cameron, Cameron, Cameron. Zion was saying, I struggled with the pressure, trying to fight as much as I could. I sent a punch upward. Ow. What did you do that for? Open your eyes. I sat blinking and took in my surroundings. Zion had moved us deeper into the woods, right near the pond behind grandma's house. It had started to rain again. But at least the trees gave us some cover. I scrambled upward-looking around, breathing hard.

Where is it? I asked. Where is it? Where is what? Zion asked, anger blossoming on his face. As he straightened his glasses and pulled out a cloth from his pocket. You didn't have to punch me. What do you mean what? You saw it. Saw what? Zion said. I didn't see anything. You said run, and that's all I had to hear. You never ever ask questions when someone tells you to run, especially when it's coming from your best friend. I gestured around us. My heart's still hammering. I could have sworn I saw a shadow, smoke, something.