By Ed Staskus

   Emma was dozing in the back seat, her head slumped on her brother’s shoulder, the night they discovered the truth about Shadow Man. Oliver had heard of him, but since they were leaving Prince Edward Island in a few days, going home to Ohio, he had almost given up hope of running into him. Even though he was only ten years old, he was as a rule prepared for the worst when it came to monster hunting, but always hoped for the best.

   Oliver was an accomplished monster hunter. His older sister Emma was his right hand man. Their parents were in the front seats, their father driving and their mother scrolling through her cell phone. It was nearing eleven o’clock. They had been in Charlottetown, at the Irish Hall, where they had seen the band Fiddler’s Sons. They were returning to the Coastline Cottages in North Rustico, where the family had been staying for nearly two weeks.

   They took a wrong turn leaving Charlottetown and ended up on Rt. 15 instead of Rt. 223. “No matter,” their father said. “We’ll drive up to Brackley Beach and from there all we have to do is turn left to North Rustico.” Getting back to their cottage from there meant going through Rustico, Rusticoville, South Rustico, and Anglo Rustico, which were along the way.

   North Rustico was founded in the late 18^th century. Nobody is sure exactly when. It is on a natural harbor on the Gulf of St. Lawrence. There is a food market, a hardware store, a Lions Club, and about six hundred people live there. René Rassicot, a French pioneer, was one of the first settlers in North Rustico. All the rest of the nearby Rustico towns take their name from him.

   They were driving down a stretch of Rt. 6 near South Rustico when the road was engulfed by green fog. Suddenly, out of nowhere, there was somebody in front of their car. He was a tall man wearing an old-fashioned flat brim hat and a long black coat. Their father slammed on the brakes but it was too late. The car hit the man and sliced through him like he was nothing.

   “Stay here,” Oliver’s father said, coming to a stop and jumping out of their Jeep Cherokee. He was shaken. He scanned the ground with a flashlight. Nobody was lying dead on the road or in the bar ditch. Oliver twisted around and peered through the rear window.

   Emma woke up. “What’s going on?” she asked.

   “I think dad hit something,” Oliver said. He climbed out of the back seat. Emma followed him. Their mother kept her hand on her cell phone, ready to call 911.

   “He came out of nowhere,” their father said. “He was in the middle of the road but now he’s nowhere.”

   “I have nowhere else to go,” a voice said.

   Oliver, Emma, and their father looked in all directions, looking for the voice. A man walked out of the fog towards them. He was still wearing his old-fashioned flat brim hat. He was more silhouette than flesh and blood. He didn’t look hurt in any way. He was carrying a mace in his right hand. It was an aspergillum, a liturgical implement used to sprinkle holy water. 

   “It’s my double-edged sword, in case my sacred water doesn’t work on the fiend,” he said. “In that case I will send him back to Hell by smashing him with God’s instrument.”

   “We thought we hit you in the road. Are you all right?”

   “Yes, I am all right,” the man said. He had a French accent. His voice had a slight echo to it

   “Who are you?”

   “He’s the Shadow Man,” Oliver said. He knew his phantoms.

    “I am the shade of Rene Rassicot, after who these lands are named,”  the man said, fog rolling off his shoulders. “Some call me the Shadow Man. I do not terrorize the living. I watch over those on my lands, especially at night, when their dreams leave them exposed to danger.”

    “Are you immortal, or something?” Emma asked.

   “All creatures, except for man, are immortal because they are ignorant of death. Being a man, I am not immortal, although I was once threatened with immortality, which is more terrible than being threatened with death.”

   “Are you alive now?”

   “Yes and no, my young girl. My advanced age has resigned me to being Shadow Man. I miss my wife. I miss my family. I miss the smell of coffee and tobacco.”

   “What are you watching out for?” Oliver asked.

   “I am watching out for Mr. Babadook. He prowls these coastal lands from Brackley Beach to Stanley Bridge. He is furtive and cold-hearted. He strikes a pose in a beaver pelt top hat. He wears black mouth paint and his long spindly fingers are knife-like claws. He feeds on bowls of worms.”

   “I’ve never heard of Mr. Babadook,” Emma said.

   “He is the fiend who has oppressed me these past one hundred years,” Shadow Man said. “I have sometimes been confused with him since 1925, when Mr. Babadook was brought to this island in a children’s book.”

   “He came here in a book?” Oliver asked.

   “Yes, a pop-up book.” 

   The first pop-up book was “Little Red Riding Hood” published in 1855. It was called a scenic book. Seventy years later the Big Bad Wolf had become Mr. Babadook. He and the wolf shared the same kind of teeth and unholy appetites.

   “What does he do?” Oliver asked.

   “He knocks on your door, disappears, but leaves behind his red pop-up book meant for children’s night stands.”

   “What happens if children read the book?”

   “When they open the book they read, ‘You can make friends with a special one.’ By the time they get to the middle of the book they read, ‘You cannot get rid of me!’ After that they can’t help turning page after page. When they finish the pop-up book Mr. Babadook moves into their basement and gains control of the house and the family. In the end what happens is madness.”

   “That sounds terrible,” Emma said. “Why hasn’t anybody stopped him?”

   Their father wanted to say there isn’t any such thing as dream police, although he conceded there were dream monsters. Before he could say anything, however, Oliver piped up.

   “Dad, can Shadow Man come with us? He could sleep in Cottage No.1 since it’s empty. We could search for Mr. Babadook tomorrow. Maybe if we put our heads together we could put a stop to what he has been doing. We don’t have anything planned, do we?”

   His mother was all set to say they had plenty planned and Shadow Man should go back to where he came from, but before she could get a word out her husband said, “Get in the back. My son and you can go look for Mr. Babadook tomorrow, although you should know you won’t have much time since we are going home to Ohio in a few days.”

   “What about me?” Emma said, knowing full well she would be in on the hunt, no matter what.

   “We three will find him,” Shadow Man said.

   What he didn’t say was that Mr. Babadook might find them first. The top-hatted bogeyman was always on the prowl for children. Shadow Man looked at the two youngsters in the car and thought he must make a plan.

Next: Bye Bye Mr. Babadook

Ed Staskus posts monthly on 147 Stanley Street at http://www.147stanleystreet.com, Made in Cleveland http://www.clevelandohiodaybook.com, Down East http://www.redroadpei.com, and Lithuanian Journal http://www.lithuanianjournal.com. To get the site’s monthly feature in your in-box click on “Follow.”

“Ebb Tide” by Ed Staskus

“A thriller in the Maritimes, out of the past, a double cross, and a fight to the finish.” Sam Winchell, Beyond Books

Available at Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CV9MRG55

Summer, 1989. A small town on Prince Edward Island. Mob money on the move gone missing. Muscle from Montreal. JT Markunas, an RCMP constable working the back roads, stands in the way.

A Crying of Lot 49 Publication