Chapter 1

Boston, Massachusetts, USA, 1874

The alleyway was always dark and menacing, even on the brightest of spring days. It ran between two rows of houses just a few blocks from James’s house, almost equidistant to his best friend Timmy’s. Though he enjoyed running through the neighborhood with his friend, coming back home in the afternoon was always a frightening experience. No matter how many times he managed to get past the obstacle, whether coming or going, he always assumed each time he approached the chasm it would be his last as something would burst forth from the shadows and drag him away, never to be seen or heard from again.

This particular day, James had left Timmy’s a bit early as his friend’s older brother had stayed home from school with a cough and was constantly interfering in the younger boys’ attempts at playing with Timmy’s new baseball. Once Steven had tossed it in the bushes for the sixth or seventh time, James had had enough and told Timmy he might see him tomorrow, taking off for home.

Now, as he approached the last of the row houses on this side of the alleyway, he felt his breath catch in his throat. Even from here, the darkness seemed to spill out to the walkway, encroaching on the otherwise cheery spring day. He took two more short steps and then froze in place.

He had developed a few strategies for getting past the alleyway, though none of them were particularly helpful. The one that he liked least was to close his eyes and run. Even though it stood to reason this would be the least terrifying way to cross, it failed him every time. While he knew not being able to look down the alley should prevent him from seeing anything horrific, it might also prevent him from escaping capture. Rarely did he employ this tactic.

Another method had been to step to the edge of the shadows and twist his head as much as possible so that he could check for predators before proceeding into the realm of darkness. This way, should there be anything menacing lurking along the edges of the bordering homes, amidst the unkempt ivies and weeds that clung to the fences and siding, the garbage cans and other residents who never left the bleakness of the alley, he could retreat before he fell into their clutches. This was his usual way of checking to make sure he was safe to sprint to the light on the other side of the walkway.

One more way, one he had only used once before after his older sister, Marjorie, had called him a “sissy pants” was to turn so that he was facing the alley head on and draw upon all the courage he could muster so that he could make his face as fierce as possible. He had stood in the splash of darkness for a moment, his hands resolutely fisted on his hips, looking his antagonists in the eyes, should they dare to face him, and then slowly step to the other side. This was certainly the best strategy he had come up with, although it was faulty in that the one time he had used it, he’d nearly wet his pants when a leaf caught in the wind seemed to lurch at him.

Today, he decided to use what he had nicknamed the “look and leap” approach, where he would turn his head and check the alleyway before taking off across to safety as fast as his little legs could carry him. With a deep breath, he took one more step, and then straining his neck so that his head stretched into the danger zone, he peered into the un-trustable space, hoping to see nothing more than the shadows of known objects he’d become familiar with in previous treks.

At first, James saw nothing out of the ordinary—only a few taller weeds stretching out into the wind, catching his eye with their unexpected movement. Two garbage receptacles stood in their usual places. The small piece of siding that had been flapping in the breeze ever since that snowstorm last January continued to rock back and forth as usual. Though he felt relieved, he still didn’t completely trust all was well. One could never tell when evil might rear its ugly head. Yet, with nothing visually imposing before him, he took a step into the shadows, doing his best to calm the pounding in his heart with logic and reasoning.

All of that logic went out the window when, in his peripheral vision, James saw something move. He was sure of it. He hadn’t gotten a good look, but out of the corner of his eye, as he began to turn his head so that he could see where he was going as he sprinted along the sidewalk, he noticed it—a quick, sudden shadow rising up from a place deep in the alley where little light was able to reach. He turned his head back toward the alleyway to see a figure retreating into the darkness, fading into the edges of the back of the corridor where there was not enough light to see from James’s position. It was a human form, of that he was sure, but the rapidity of its departure seemed impossible. Even though he wasn’t quite sure exactly what he was looking at, a gleam seemed to catch his eye as the figure initially rose from its crouched position behind the trash receptacle. He couldn’t be certain, but James thought it may have been the glint of the sun off of razor sharp teeth!

Without another thought, he took off running as fast as he could up Chestnut Street toward his home. He passed an elderly neighbor woman, Mrs. O’Neal, but he didn’t even acknowledge her greeting as he sprinted the next two blocks to the safety of his own home. He knew for sure he wouldn’t be visiting Timmy’s house again the next day—nor any other, for that matter.