I had never seen anyone like him; at least I had never seen anyone like him where I live in Rumford, Maine. He was the most beautiful teenage boy I had ever seen. I met him my senior year in high school. I was sitting alone at my lunch table when a tall, boy with bleach blonde hair and striking green eyes walked passed me. I had never seen anyone like him before. He made me gasp and think about him in the future of my life. From that moment on, I never got him out of my mind. Something about him was so unique and mysterious about him, which kept me so intrigued and wanting to know more. He made me feel alive; he made me feel like I wasn’t alone, like someone was with me at all times.
Weeks later I mustered up the courage to talk to him. He was sitting on a picnic table in the courtyard of our school, listening to his IPod and writing something in the green spiral bound notebook on his lap. I took a deep breath in and walked over to him. I even had the courage to sit down next to him. I remember him saying, “Hello” to me, in a deep, husky voice. He said his name was Calvin. He said he had been watching me for the past few weeks, Calvin said he had never seen anyone like me, anyone so peaceful and so calm. I blushed. I remember talking to him about how he initially struck me and made me feel alive, even though we had never met. From that day on, we became friends. Something about him, which was so deep and mysterious made me go crazy.

One day, I got so angry with Calvin, I became furious. I wanted to know so badly what went through his mind, what he thought about me and others and what made him tick. I stormed out of the school, leaving my teachers in shock. I was walking along the deep blue, musty smelling creek, in the dark, when I heard a noise. I turned and saw a shadow in the distance. I didn’t think too much of it, just that it could have been a scarecrow from the fields of our school. I walked more; I felt a quick passing breeze, as if someone had run past me. I quickly turned in a circle, searching for a ghost or a person in the dark. Spotted. A tall boy with bleach blonde hair and striking green eyes. His skin was pale white and his eyes were the brightest of all greens imaginable. He was standing a few feet away from me, shirtless with burnt holes in his cargo pants. He was barefoot, and looked like he had been crying. I remember being afraid, afraid for him and for my life. He was so different, unreal, and unhuman. We stood beside the creek, several feet away, staring at each other. Finally, he spoke, in his deep, raspy tone.
“I’m sorry. I was going to tell you”, he said. “I’m not real, I’m not human.”
I gasped. Calvin began speaking again, while getting closer to me. “I was human, I was real, and I died a few years back, in a house fire. I never fully passed over to the next life. I am stuck here. My name is not what I told you, my name is Peter Shadow Foster. I am eighteen years old; I have been eighteen since I died. My family was not like most, everyone believed there was something strange or different about my family, so one night; they poured gas on the sides of my house and lit it, while all of us were sleeping. That night was like the Salem Witch trials all over again, but in present day.”

I didn’t know what to say. I had never met anyone who was dead yet still living. I closed my dropped jaw and began to walk away. I moved quickly, almost running, almost sprinting. I looked behind me, there was no one there, and then I looked in front of me. Peter was standing there, his eyes glowing at me.

I remember him telling me it would be okay. He wasn’t going to hurt me; he was there to be my friend. In the fire he picked up the ability of superior speed. He said the fumes he had breathed had done something to his strength, causing this superpower. He was the quickest person I have ever seen. Peter could run 400 meters and back in under two seconds. He also became a shadow. We sat down on a nearby rock and explained to me what being a shadow was like. He said it is like being invisible, but all anyone can see is a shadow. During daylight, when no sun is shining, Peter has no shadow, because he himself is a shadow. In the dark, as it was then, he was a shadow. I could not touch him. He was like a mirage, but he looked like a regular human being. In daylight, he can touch, feel and show emotion. During the night he has extreme anger because he died aggravated at the people who killed him. Peter said that he could control people’s minds, he could control the weather, and he could control everything except the people who killed him. Peter said his goal was to hunt down the people which did this to him, which made his life miserable. He knows who they are, but he doesn’t know where to find them.

I told him violence is not an answer. What they did to him was wrong, but you can’t go after them, it is unearthly and unfriendly. He screamed at me, a large, bellowing sound from deep within him. He yelled my name and said if I have been paying attention then I would have known that he is not earthly, he is dead and he needs my help, because I know who killed him.

My help? I thought. I don’t know who killed him. I can’t help him, I though. I ran away and never looked back. I hurried into my house, frightening my mother and father, sped into my room and hid for my life. While I was lying there I heard noises that Peter was controlling. He could control what I was thinking, he had the power to tell the sky and trees and ground what to do. He could kill me for all I know. He could be miles away and still send a message to the tree outside my house to fall and kill me, kill everyone in my family. I was just put in a life or death situation. Help him, live and go to jail, or not help him, and die. Help me Lord, I thought. You live on the foundation which I died on, you live there, a voice said in the back on my mind. Your parents killed me; your parents are Marsha and Bill. They killed me. I have been eighteen for eighteen years. They killed me before you were born; it was your family… The same voice said in my mind. My parents killed the Fosters? I pulled out my laptop, typed in ‘Peter Shadow Foster Fire’ and pulled up the story.
Six were killed in the Foster Fire, five children and one adult. There was no proof it was an arson attack, but something tells us that Marsha and Bill Smith, the lawyers down at Ronny Hill Offices had something to do with it. Their case was defending their client who was murdered and the charge went against the Fosters. Marsha Smith had recently told the press that she thought the Foster’s should leave town, for it was no longer safe for their family anymore. Marsha also thought something supernatural was happening with all six of the Fosters, she didn’t know specifically what, but she knew they performed witchcraft in their kitchen late at night.
The Daily News, Bill Bass, July 1, 2012

My parents were the cause and I had to get over the fact, my parents were murderers, are murders. I was not about to take revenge out on my parents for Peter. He was going to have to go through me.

From that day on, I knew it was going to be war. I knew that with Peter ‘Shadow’ Foster, would never let this go. I knew that I had to do something. Although he could outrun me, out lift me, out hide me and out smart me, I knew what I had to do. I had to burn him, in my house, where he died the first time.

Dear Journal,

I did it. I killed Peter. I tried and tried for three years and I finally succeeded. I feel bad about what I did but my life was constantly in danger with him around. For those three years, Peter proved he was smarter than me, because he could get out of any situation that I threw at him. I finally learned to control my thoughts, so he couldn’t break into my mind. I set it up. I told him I was ready to help him. I had him come over to my house. I had taken everything important out of my house and took my possessions to a friend’s house. I did not tell my parents what I was planning. I had finally gained his trust after telling him that I had a huge fight with my parents and I was so angry at them, I wanted to kill them. So, Peter and I were in my room. I was concentrating on holding my thoughts back, when I told him I had to run down to the kitchen to grab a snack real quickly. I ran quietly down into the kitchen and grabbed the gasoline cans. I poured the gas all over the kitchen floor. I heard his footsteps coming down the stairs. I was obviously losing concentration. I poured the last bit of the gas on the stove and I opened the door to the back yard. I lit a match, and came face to face with the green eyes again. I threw the match into the kitchen as I ran away, watching Peter Shadow Foster and my house burn up in the fire. The firefighters said that no body was found, just amazingly green ashes.

From that day on, I have never forgotten Peter because he was so different, so unique that I could not take my mind off him. He was invincible against everything in the world, except fire, the thing I, Margo Julianne Smith, used to outsmart him with.