Three days passed. Three quiet days. Every time a faint movement had caught her eye, it was something real. A dog. A jogger. A kid on a scooter. She began to wonder if she had really seen anything in the park or if she was losing it. Maybe she should tell her dad. Maybe she did need help.
Though part of her was sure that it had to be her imagination, the rest knew what she had seen. And she wanted answers. So, since the park, she sat in her usual chair as often as possible, holding the book on the pillow on her lap, watching through her peripheral vision for the slightest movement. That was how it all started. Perhaps it would start again if she just tried hard enough.
But nothing was happening as evening settled in and everything fell into shadows, so she set the book aside with a sigh. Maybe it was time for a new tactic.
Wandering into her bedroom, she pulled a box from beneath her bed. She smiled at its contents. A few favorite toys. A spelling bee award. Old pictures of her and her family on vacations to the mountains, out West, to the ocean. Beneath them all were her old diaries and the stories she used to write as a kid. She’d never been a consistent writer. But maybe writing was exactly what she needed.
As she dug through the journals for some blank pages, she noticed a strange entry from when she was five. Something about the dragon that lived in her closet. No one ever believed her that it was there, but she knew it was lurking in the dark. As soon as she turned on the light, it would hide behind her clothes, but it was never actually gone.
Setting the diary down, she turned off the light and closed the blinds. And, in the darkness, she waited until she saw something. A faint movement. To her left.