VAL DAY-SANCHEZ

Copyright © 2016 Val Day-Sanchez

All rights reserved.

She was crouched down with her knees pulled to her chest. She tried to steady her breathing, hoping to trick her brain into believing that she was calm, to stop her equally uncontrollable and involuntary shaking. The screaming outside the door was loud enough now that she wasn’t too concerned with the sound her trembling limbs caused but soon the screaming would stop and it would be listening for her. It wouldn't be long before it found her. Not long before she looked like the others.

A creaky board initiated her fight or flight response and the adrenaline and fear began a battle within her mind. The facts of her situation began topresent themselves.

Her back was pushed up against a wall, one that she shared with her neighbors. If she had a silent sledgehammer and one-hundred extra pounds maybe she would be able to tunnel out of her bedroom closet. If she had bravery beyond her years and skills in craftsmanship she could build something out of clothes hangers and Mary Jane's to defeat the thing that was going to inevitably find her. The reality was, she was trapped. Her imagination could devise a myriad of delusions for escaping but she wasn't going to make it. The thing that was outside, she didn't have a name for it but she knew what it was.

It had always lived in the shadows. She could feel it lurking, waiting, watching. The grown-ups seemed to be highly skilled at ignoring its presence. She had thought there was something wrong with her for noticing it and so she had begun to pretend that she didn't hear its evil whispers interrupting her thoughts. She didn't tell anyone about the bruises that formed on her skin in the middle of the night, she simply wore long sleeves. When the thing would cause her stomach to knot and her body to recoil at the thought of food she performed an imitation of eating. She would do anything to avoid being labeled as different.

Once she had been brave. A teacher at her school had seen the scars on her arms. It had been an inexplicably warm day and she'd absently rolled up her sleeves during recess. Later she had come to the conclusion that she had confided in the teacher partly because, she was brave and also, she had been caught off guard. When she told the teacher about the scary thing that she always felt the teacher’s eyes had hardened. The girl continued to describe how it lived in her apartment but she never saw it. The teacher had grown angry with her. She chastised her and told her to stop telling stories stating that if such a thing existed in her home that her parents, who were constantly volunteering at her school, would have mentioned it. The little girl then understood that her bravery had been stupidity, her instincts to remain silent had been right all along.

Now she made sure to wear a sweater over her long sleeves to make it extremely difficult to ever roll up her sleeves, no matter the temperature. The other kids began to see her as peculiar and when her mother had come to volunteer one afternoon she noticed how the little girl was not invited to play with the other kids. The teachers began to tell her parents about how she had begun to keep to herself, they didn't bother to explain that she was a victim of alienation. This was unacceptable in her home, calling attention back to their family. When she returned from school that day all of her long sleeves shirts had been removed, her cardigans were all missing from her closet. The little girl cried, how was she going to explain her marred arms? But the funniest thing happened, they had all vanished by morning.***

The screaming had stopped and she was sure that whatever was outside her closet door could hear her heart slamming against her chest. Her breathing was as rampant as it had been before. The silence that engulfed the apartment wasworse than the haunting screams. Now she had no way of knowing where it was. She tightened her grip around her legs and braced herself as best she could.

She wasn't sure what had caused the thing to surface. Part of her was tempted to finally see what it looked like, this thing that was constantly hurting her and those around her. This thing that had mercifully removed her scars but also viciously caused them. She didn't like what it was but she didn't know how to live without it.Tucked away in her closet she sat and waited, both anxious and terrified to meet the cause of her anguish.She stared, transfixed, as a shadow was cast over the crack between the closet door and the floor. It was here.

Valerie Day-Sánchez enjoys reading and writing across genres, although young adult is her favorite at the moment. Threshold is her first attempt at Sci-Fi. Her other work consists of YA Fantasy Trilogy, Harlow Whittaker. She received both her B.A. and M.A. in Communication Studies from New Mexico State University. Her love of the desert Southwest keeps her close to home although she loves to travel, especially when she gets a chance to try the local cuisine. Playing with her two sons and the family’s Boston Terrier, Winston, are how she occupies her time when she’ not writing.