There was a large crowd waiting for us, mostly homeless people and a few low-income, single mothers with their children; I always had a soft spot for the single mothers, and I’d often give them extra helpings to take home. They were sitting at circular tables scattered around the large room and the merry babble of chatter echoed throughout.

We set the food down on a long rectangular table near the kitchen door and the crowd began to get up from their seats in anticipation.

“Hold on now!” Ms. Higgins raised her hands and spoke loud enough for all to hear, stopping them in their tracks. “Everyone just listen to me, and we’ll do this in an orderly fashion. See those numbers on your tables? When I call your table’s number everyone from that table can come up and get some grub. Then I’ll call the next table ...”

Having heard this a dozen times, I glanced to the right at the glass doors leading out to the front parking lot. The sun had gone down and the sky was pitch black. My eye jumped to the clock hanging above the doorway and it read: 7:15.

I sighed.

I hope this lasts a while, I thought. I don’t want to go home to World War III.

My eyes went back to the dark parking lot, ominously lit with streetlights, one of which was broken so it flickered every so often. I gazed at the equally ominous trees that surrounded the lot and tried to shut out what my brother had said to my mother.

Everything was easier when I was little. If something upset me at home, I would retreat into my imagination and everything would be okay for a little while. My imagination could take me anywhere in the world. But now it wasn’t so simple. Now I was practically an adult; and not just any adult either. I was an adult who felt as if she had an obligation to her mother to try and make everything better. As a child it felt as if I could make my mother happier in an instant. All I had to do was put a sock on my head while trying to walk in her oversized shoes or make a funny face and everything was fine again.

But why was it so hard to make her feel better now? And why did it hurt more when I couldn’t achieve it? When I was younger it felt like I had a some sort of support system that helped me. Something that helped me make everything a little more bearable …

… Or was it someone?

Ever since I was twelve, I felt there was a gap in my childhood memories. Many times, when I’d be trying to block out muffled yells from downstairs, I’d reach deep into my mind for those memories, but each time I hit a wall.

Forgetting that Ms.Higgins was still speaking, I closed my eyes and imagined myself in front of that wall. I put my hands against it and pushed as hard as I could.

It didn’t budge.

I curled my hands into fists, pressed my imaginary forearms to the surface, and pushed again, with all my might.

Again nothing.

Why did it feel like someone very dear to me … had left? And they were just on the other side of this wall?

Ugh why can’t I remember! I kicked the wall.

I gasped softly, feeling tears well up. I bit my lip and fought them, turning fully toward the outside door to hide my face from everyone.

If only I could go back, if only I could imagine ...

A tear escaped from my eye and I wiped it away quickly.

A single brick on that wall shifted in with a grating sound and I thought, Purple and blue.

I gasped softly and my eyes snapped to the base of a tree outside.

I could have sworn I saw the swish of a purple tail around the bottom of one of the trees in the parking lot.

Must have been a cat, I thought. But then again, cats aren’t purple or blue. I must be more tired than I thought.

Mateo nudged my arm and my head snapped back around. Our eyes locked and he gave a nod towards Ms. Higgins. After realizing she was beginning to say grace, I quickly bowed my head and closed my eyes. I had wanted this to take time, but now all I wanted was for dinner to end. Even if I had just imagined it, I wouldn’t be satisfied until I investigated.

                                                         ***

After dinner was served and the cookware was washed, I gave a hasty goodbye to my friends and sped to the parking lot. Fumbling with my phone, I finally turned on the camera light.

“Okay where are you?” I mumbled. My eyes darted from tree to tree trying to gauge which one was the one that the strange colored cat had gone around.

Finally, my eyes landed on a large oak tree that stood apart from the rest in the small forest. I began to circle the tree but stopped when I saw something odd. Crouching down I touched the bark where it seemed...misaligned? A strangely neat crack created a kind of arch around the base of the tree, big enough for a housecat to walk through.

I shook my head and laughed. What am I doing? Cat’s couldn’t walk through trees, and they weren’t blue and purple. I stood up and was turning to leave when I heard a series of snaps.

I flicked my phone light in the direction of the noise and saw another brief flash of fur.

Purple fur.

Jaw dropping I rushed after it. The cat was out of reach of my phone light, but I could see it’s dark form ahead of me as I ran.

“Wait!” I yelled. “Wai--Ah!” I winced as I tripped over a tree root. I fell hard and the wind rushed out of my lungs.

“Dammit!” I wheezed. I felt that I had lost something important. That cat was significant in a way I couldn’t articulate. I closed my eyes, reached back into my mind, and saw the wall again. I pushed a little more and something came to me.

“Drawings,” I said, opening my eyes. “Drawings … under my bed?”

How had I forgotten? I had to get home immediately.  Those drawings had to have answers. As I slowly stood up, I heard a branch rustle to my left. Thinking it was the cat, I said, “Hello cat! Don’t worry I’m not going to hurt you. Come here kitty.”

I walked closer to the tree until I was directly underneath it.

“Don’t worry everything's gonna be just …”

I stood frozen.

Up in the tree branches was a dark looming shadow. I couldn’t make out it’s features, but instinct told me it was a man. My heart pounded in my chest and a cold sweat ran down my back. I knew I had to run but my feet were glued to the floor.

The figure didn’t move and for a moment I thought, It could be a shadow that just looks like a man.

An evil laugh echoed throughout the small forest, and my heart jumped into my throat.

Yeah, that was not a shadow. 

A memory pierced through my mind and I was six years old again, hearing a thundering noise. I was in my Aunt’s house, covering myself with the sheets and, trembling from head to toe, waiting for ...

“I know that laugh,” I whispered, my eyes never leaving the shadow that seemed more distinct than ever.

The figure cocked its head at me, and yellow eyes shined through the darkness.

The figure leaped down from the tree, growing bigger.

I screamed and ran as fast as I could to the parking lot.

I ran so hard everything around me turned into a blur. I didn’t dare look behind me. He could still be there.

I screamed again as a bright light cut through the darkness and shined into my eyes, causing me to stop hard and fall backwards. The light was blinding and I squinted to get a good look at what was in front of me. It seemed to be coming from two different sources, but I still couldn’t make it out.

Holding up my hands to block it ... I realized I’d run back into the parking lot where my mother had just parked the car and stepped out. “Mia, what are you doing?”

I ignored her and twisted where I sat to point my phone light into the trees, ignoring how the gravel and shells of the lot dug into my hand.

Damn it, nothing at all. All I wanted was to retreat into my imagination, not start having hallucinations. The thought of the box of drawings under my bed came back to me and I felt a small flame of hope blossom inside me. Maybe the drawings held some answers to all of this nonsense.

A hand clapped on my shoulder and I jumped, squealing in fright. I turned to shine the phone light right into my mother’s eyes.

“Whoa, Mia!” She winced and held up her hands, looking concerned. “It’s just me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing … I mean I thought I saw …” I glanced back at the trees and turned off my phone light, still trembling.

I let her help me up. “Let’s just go home.”