Shadows in the Night

Breanne Montgomery sat lazily in her desk as her history teacher, Ms. Franks drug in the old slide projector into the classroom, looking excited for the day’s lesson. The students in the classroom groaned at the look on her face, they knew that if Ms. Franks was excited, it was going to be a boring day. Around her, Breanne saw her fellow students making themselves comfortable—getting ready to catch up on the sleep that they didn’t get the night before.

Sighing, she mounded her dark blue fleece coat up and laid her head on it, closing her eyes. She could hear Ms. Franks dusting off the old machine before turning it on. Curiosity getting the best of her, Breanne cracked open her eyes to look at the first slide of the slide show. Furrowing her brow, she read the title over and over again. Who Was Jack the Ripper?

Great. She thought. We’re learning about a serial killer, I thought this was high school, not some sort of police academy. Shooting a glance around the room, she was surprised to see that most of her classmates’ attention had been grabbed by the slide show.

Ms. Franks clapped her hands excitedly as she walked to stand by the projector screen. The look on her face was like that of a little kid who had just walked into the world’s largest toy store: eyes large, smile bright. Frankly, it scared Breanne quite a bit. The elder woman standing in front of the twenty pairs of eyes began to ramble on quickly.

“In August of 1888, in a small part of London, England called Whitechapel, Jack the Ripper began killing prostitutes, by the end of his spree, in November of the same year, five women were dead (although, there are some that speculate that Jack the Ripper killed more than five women but we won’t go into that at the moment). His first victim was Mary Ann Nichols…”

Breanne’s mind wandered, leaving the stuffy classroom far behind. Her thoughts drifted to the water front, her weekend hangout, she could picture the Spanish moss spreading like a wild fire along the small crowded Savannah streets. More than anything, she wished she were there, instead of stuck in the stuffy class room. But her daydreams were interrupted when Ms. Franks’ shrill voice broke through the silence like a bomb.

“Jesse! Jesse Holden! Wake up! I will not have you sleeping in my class!” Breanne turned her head just in time to see the boy two rows over jump to attention. He sleepily rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands before running a hand through his dark shaggy hair.

Breanne’s brow furrowed, Jesse Holden? Who in the world was Jesse Holden? She had never seen him around school before, which was unusual. Breanne wasn’t popular, but in a small school like Roosevelt High, it was hard not to know everyone. Maybe he’s new. She thought, but then, why wouldn’t Ms. Franks have introduced him to everyone else? Wasn’t that how it usually worked? The teacher would drag you to the front of the class and force you to say something about yourself before you could sit down.

She watched as his hair fell into his eyes as he hunched over in the desk in front of him. He scribbled something on a sheet of paper. Probably notes, she told herself. Vaguely, in the back of her mind, she hoped there wouldn’t be a test over the material they covered in today’s lesson, but knowing Ms. Franks’, who loved to give tests over everything, there would be.

Jesse shifted in his seat, turning his head, and in the process catching Breanne’s eyes. His pencil hovered over the paper, as if he was about to write something else. His mouth slightly open, he wouldn’t look away from her. In response, Breanne played with the hem of her shirt nervously, but she didn’t look away. There was something about the intensity in his dark brown eyes. Opening her mouth, she was about to say something, when the bell rang.

--

“Ms. Franks has gone off the deep end.” Victoria Marks commented to her best friend as they walked down the crowded hallway.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Breanne answered half heartedly as she scanned the crowd for Jesse. Finding no sign of him, she turned her full attention to the blond beside her. “Did you see how excited she got when she was talking about Jack the Ripper?” Victoria laughed.

“I’m pretty sure the Board of Education would have something to say about her teaching that kind of stuff.”

“Probably, but it’s not worth it to actually bring it up,” She stopped to drop her books off at her locker, “besides, they won’t do anything unless a lot of parents complain, and with the way parents around here generally don’t care, it’s not like anything would happen.” Slamming her locker closed, she turned to continue down the hall, slowing as they neared the cafeteria.

“Eh, that and I’m just too lazy to actually do anything about it.”

--

After school, Breanne made her way up the three flights of stairs, and the drop ladder to her attic room, being sure not to disturb the guests in the many rooms in the bed and breakfast. After the death of her father, Breanne’s mother opened the inn, leaving the attic to her as her room.
Living in a bed and breakfast had its perks. There was always food in the kitchen, ready to be cooked if not already cooked (Breanne couldn’t remember the last time she looked in the large refrigerator and didn’t see leftovers). People were always willing to talk…and talk, and talk. But along with the perks, came the down side. You had to be quiet, all the time. No loud music, what so ever. And, in the heart of Savannah, parking was hard to come by.

Throwing her back pack on her bed, she fell, face first, after it. Curling up on her bed, she was nearly asleep when her mother came into her room.

“Breanne, honey?” Her mother called. Breanne turned her head looking at her mother; her dark brown hair had been pulled into a low ponytail at the base of her neck, her blue eyes showing signs of sleep deprivation. People always told her how much she looked like her mother, and it was true, Breanne was nearly identical to her mother.

“Yeah, Mom?”

“Honey, I’m swamped. Do you think you could clean room 2b for me? ” She asked, failing to stifle a yawn. “The Johnson’s left earlier this afternoon, and there’s another couple that scheduled to come in in a few hours.”

“Yeah, sure, Mom.” Breanne nodded rolling out of bed.

“Thanks, Bree.” Her mother answered gratefully before turning to climb back down the ladder.
Sending one last longing glance towards her bed, Breanne followed after her mother, heading to room 2b.



Her eyes were ice blue—the kind of blue you didn’t see every day when it came to eye colors. That was the first thing he noticed about her when he caught her staring at her. He instantly froze. Her long brown hair fell past her shoulders, curling at the end. His hand had stopped, holding the pencil right above the paper on his desk. He couldn’t bring himself to break the eye contact long enough to scribble down the next sentence. He couldn’t even remember the sentence he was going to write. He watched as she began to open her mouth, and he was sure she was going to talk to him, until the bell rang.

He was the first one out of the classroom, making a beeline to the large double doors at the front of the school. As he stepped out into the fresh air, he took a deep breath. Why was she staring at me? He thought to himself.

Crossing the street at the crosswalk, he hitched his bag higher onto his shoulder. Brushing the hair out of his eyes, he walked into the small gas station. The place was crowded, filled to the brim with food, small toys, anything imaginable. On the back wall, there was a large freezer that held all kinds of drinks and ice cream. During the summer, Jesse recalled, the store was packed with local kids waiting in line to by an ice cream cone, or a cream soda.

“Jesse, how are you today?” The man behind the counter greeted with a smile.

“I’m alright, Ron, how are you?” Jesse nodded in reply, as he browsed through the comics near the front of the store. He picked up a colorful Batman comic, flipped through it, and then went to grab a drink from the back of the store, before putting both in front of Ron.

“How was school today?” Ron asked, swiping the items over the scanner. “That’ll be $5.07.” He added. Jesse dug in his pocket for his black leather wallet.

“It was alright,” he shrugged before handing over the money. “It’s always the same. You go, you sit, and you attempt to learn something.” He held out his hand for the change that Ron was holding out for him. The older man laughed as he shook his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ron.”

“Stay outta trouble, Kid.” Ron waved as he watched Jesse walk out of the store.

--

Jesse walked towards the small apartment on the other end of town, desperately wishing that he had a car, or that he had even taken the bus. On the other hand, he probably wouldn’t have had the money to take the bus. The last time he checked, the money he had spent in the gas station a few hours ago was almost all that he had left.

Sighing, he stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his dark jeans. He needed a job, and the sooner he got one, the better.

By the time he had reached the apartment building, the sun had sunk below the horizon, leaving the sky different shades of pinks and purples. The sun’s absence had also significantly chilled the air around him, making him wish he would have thought to grab a jacket. Jesse gratefully rushed inside the building and jogged up the stairs to the fifth floor.

“Damn it.” He muttered as he noticed the eviction notice taped to the door; just when he thought his day couldn’t get any worse. Turning the key in the lock of the door knob with a little more force than was necessary, he let himself in.

“Did you notice this, Eric?” He asked as he closed the door.

The young man on the couch—Jesse’s roommate—didn’t even look up from the TV screen, the game controller still secured in his hands. Shaking his head angrily, Jesse threw the thin sheet of paper on the coffee table, and stomped through the hallway and into his small cramped bedroom.

His room wasn’t much to look at: dingy, off-white walls, and a twin bed in the corner. A small dresser sat near the door, and next to that, a small bookshelf on the brink of overflowing. The beige carpet was dotted with stains from who knows what, Jesse had a suspicion that, years ago, it was probably white, and not beige.

Throwing himself on the bed, he grabbed the worn book that lay on his bedside table and opened it, tossing the scrap of paper that he was using as a bookmark beside him on the bed.

--

Jesse wasn’t sure when he fell asleep; all he knew was that it was his alarm clock that woke him up at 6:00 the next morning. Fighting his way through his morning routine, in a sleepily daze, he grabbed a Pop Tart from the small kitchen, and his coat from the back of the couch before closing the door on his way out.

The morning air was chilly, and Jesse zipped up his fleece jacket before he started the long walk to school. Glancing at the sky, he noticed that the moon was still full in the sky—it didn’t surprise him, the morning around him was dark and the stars still shone in the sky.

The loud thumps of his combat boots against the sidewalk were interrupted by a rustle. Freezing, he looked around him. Squinting his eyes he desperately tried to see around him, but to no avail. Instead, he settled for listening. When he heard nothing, he began to walk again, only to hear the rustling again. Quickly, he whipped around.

“Who’s there?” He asked hoarsely.

No answer came, only another rustle. Taking a deep breath he stepped off the sidewalk, and onto the soft earth. The rustle came once more, and finally, Jesse pinpointed the sound’s location: a rather large bridal bouquet bush, long since bloomed. It was a pitiful sight, it’s blooms lay all around, browned and dead. With shaking hands, he reached for the foliage and quickly pulled it back.

When the small cat dashed out from the bush, Jesse jumped back, nearly succeeding in falling over the edge of the sidewalk. He watched, with labored breaths as the kitten took refuge under a car. Taking one last steadying breath, he pushed himself up off of the ground and continued on his way.
But Jesse couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. Letting a low growl escape from the back of his throat, he shook his head.

“Get a grip, Jesse.” He muttered. “No wonder everyone around here thinks you’re mental.”

Crossing the street in front of Roosevelt High School, he jogged up the stairs, through the double doors, and into the crowded, student filled hallway. He wanted to convince himself that he wasn’t looking for her; but he knew deep down, that he was disappointed that he didn’t see her before his first class. He knew he wouldn’t talk to her, but that wasn’t the point. Because he wasn’t looking for her, right? Right. Jesse confirmed, but in the back of his head, he heard a little voice that told him he was wrong.