Boy and Shadow

Colour and light and noise everywhere.

His sneakers pattered over the dirty, hard-soft floor, lin-oh-lee-om, his mother called it, while he tried to see beyond the legs that rose above him, far above his head. A lady’s high heeled shoes tapped sharply as she walked past, and he had to press himself up against a shelf so she didn’t step on him.

“Stay close to me, Anthony,” his mother had said, and he had. He had held onto the side of the trolley, fingers twined through the metal bars, tripping in his too-large sneakers when she moved too fast. He stayed next to her, through the fruit and veg section and bakery aisle, past the pretty cakes winking at him in their display, and the mile-long shelves of jams and Vegemite.

His mother had stopped to read the magazines. He tried to look at the pictures, but he couldn’t reach them. So he went to look at the chocolates, just down the aisle – he could still see his mother – and when he turned back around, Freddo frog in hand, she was gone.

Grown-ups scurried past him, baskets hanging off their arms, whole bodies straining to control obstinate trolleys. One woman gave him a quick glance, but her attention was diverted by her shopping list and a 2-for-the-price-of-one special on Yo-Yo biscuits. Anthony could feel his Freddo melting. He squished it between chubby fingers, and followed the biscuit woman down the aisle.

What had happened to his mother? Was she all right? Maybe she’d fallen over and been run over by her trolley. Or maybe there was a monster that lived under the supermarket shelves, hiding with the dust bunnies and discarded lollies that had skidded beneath them.

Breath coming faster, Anthony dropped his Freddo and started to run, legs splayed and hands in fists by his side. Standing on the floor, the monster could grab him, too. Catch at his ankles and trip him up, roll him under the shelves and bury him in the dirt and filth and darkness, the shadows that lingered, watching him, stalking their prey. The fluorescent lighting caused his own shadow – so many shadows of that one little boy – to bounce crazily off the grimy surfaces, teasing the monster, making it lick its lips and growl his name.

Anthony.

Something grabbed his hand, and he shrieked, trying to escape, knowing the monster was going to take him, fighting the slim, warm tentacles that encircled his wrist.

“Anthony!” his mother hissed, impatient, still not releasing his hand. “Come on, we need to hurry. The shop closes in ten minutes.”

Anthony climbed up onto the end of the trolley, so his feet no longer touched the floor, and looked back at the long aisle he’d run down. The Freddo lay abandoned on the ground, and he glanced away quickly. The face on the wrapper grinned eerily, mouth open, almost screaming at him.

The monster would eat it.