The Girl and the Shadow
The late-autumn air bit at Emma’s cheeks as she walked home from school, her backpack bouncing against her shoulders. The street was quiet — too quiet. That’s when she noticed him. A tall figure, dressed in black, keeping pace a little too closely behind her.
Her heart thudded. Every instinct screamed: Run. But her father’s voice echoed in her mind — the rule he’d repeated a hundred times: “If you’re ever scared, make light. Make noise.”
So instead of fleeing, seven-year-old Emma did something unexpected. She stopped, turned, and looked toward the sky. “Oh wow! Look at that!” she exclaimed brightly, her voice ringing down the street. Then she twirled — one, two, three spins — her red scarf swirling through the air like a ribbon of courage.
The man froze. Emma clapped her hands, laughed loudly, and broke into an impromptu ballet routine, each motion deliberate and loud enough to draw attention. Her laughter carried through the crisp air, sounding far too confident for a frightened little girl.
Across the street, an elderly neighbor, Ms. Thompson, looked up from her knitting by the window. Something didn’t feel right. She grabbed her phone and hurried outside, eyes narrowing on the scene.