The Disappearance of Valentina Moreno

Chapter 1 ~ Late Night

             Ever have a reoccurring dream feel so real you wonder if it’s a repressed memory? For me, it’s always the same. In my sleep I see a shadow, and with it is the scent of pine sifting past the curtains, leaving a trail of goosebumps on my flesh like kisses from the breeze. Then, I see the shadow standing above me, and right when I’m ready to holler in fear, it’s dark hand silences me before scooping me into its arms

There’s always a hint of mint drifting from the shadow’s breath too, and its sandpaper-like chin, scratching against my ear as it presses my face into its chest.

“I’m taking you home, little one,” the shadow often says with a kiss to my temple.

So tonight is the same as my body jerks awake, and I’m snatched from the shadow's clutch as I lay here blinking, and trying to remember where I am. With deep breaths, I take note of the surroundings and focus on the antique dresser in front of the bed with its vanity mirror, and scattered accessories sitting on top. Next to it is the worn, emerald green, chase lounger I found for a bargain at a garage sale, which happens to be buried in the clothes I flung across it while stripping down for bed. 

“Jesus, Val.” I wipe the sweat from my forehead. Because I’m home and safe. “Get it together!”

It’s been at least four months since the last dream about the shadow, yet, it was just as vivid as the one before and I can still smell the mint on the shadow’s breath and feel its scratchy beard. 

Kicking off the blankets, I hop out of bed and head to the French doors where moonlight trickles into the bedroom through a gap in the blackout curtains. Even though I live on the second level of the apartment complex, the paranoia of a burglar climbing up the balcony and jimmying his way inside worries me. So I inspect the lock. It’s the first time I’m living alone and after six months, I’m still not used to it. 

“You should have gotten a roommate if you’re going to be such a chicken shit!” I sigh when I find the bolts on the French doors intact. 

But better safe than sorry, right?

Out of habit, I peer past the curtains while standing on tiptoes to glimpse the courtyard. A crescent moon hides behind gauzy clouds which slither past twinkling cityscapes against the sapphire sky. My apartment complex is old, and constantly creaks and groans, but I wouldn't trade it for anything else. It consists of two Victorians with a garden-like courtyard in the center, but tonight, no one is down there. So, I let my gaze drift to the neighbor’s balcony across the way in 3B. 

TV light flickers against his curtains, and either he fell asleep watching it or he’s an insomniac just like me? We’ve crossed paths a handful of times, so I don’t know much about him, other than him having the kind of smile that makes my toes curl and that he works at a hospital. He always smells good too, the way one would expect some rich executive of a company to smell. Except, he’s blue-collar, just like me.

I’m about to pull away from the curtain when I spot Lisa. She lives in 4B, and often shamelessly flirts with mystery hunk while wearing tiny shorts to show off her long legs. On this night, however, she’s doing what I suspect is the walk of shame from an Uber and up the stairs to her apartment. 

“Another long night, huh?” I snort.

I'm not sure what she does for a living, but I know she always gets home late and is dressed in skimpy outfits. A yawn forces its way out, so I close the curtain and crawl back under the blankets.

But it’s a while before sleep finds me again because despite knowing I’m safe, I can’t help but feel like someone or something, is watching me.