6. Shadows

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(Author's Note: this chapter is dedicated to KellyJBurke and his wonderfully named horror story, The All-Seeing eye of Og.)


The moon cast shadows into the room, filling the corners with darkness.

Faint snores emanated from the man on the bed, who was sprawled out asleep, flat on his back, the sounds competing with the clock ticking softly on the mantelpiece.

A slight breeze entered through the open window, ruffling the gauze curtains and making the shadows dance across the floor, but the man did not wake.

Something stirred in the corner. Amongst the shadows, something began to grow.

The darkness writhed and twisted. First a head took shape, then a torso with arms and legs, rising up to form the shape of a man. Once complete, it glided across the room to pause beside the sleeping figure. Sound asleep. So vulnerable—there would never be a better opportunity.

The creature placed both hands over the man's face, covering his nose and mouth with inky blackness. Still half asleep, the man coughed and gasped, trying helplessly to suck in air, and the intruder pressed forward, pushing the darkness down, filling the open mouth completely. Arms flailed wildly but there was nothing to grab on to. Nothing to push away. Legs thrashed on the bed in a final, futile, protest.

And then, there was only the sound of the clock, inexorably ticking.

The creature stepped back from the dead man, feeling a fierce sense of victory. His technique was improving. This one had been almost easy. So easy – had it come to this, then?  What remained of his conscience struggled faintly to be heard, then disappeared, swallowed by the mire of anger and resentment that lived inside his head.

He felt no sympathy for these corporeal beings, after all, they had everything and he had... nothing. Nothing except this newly discovered ability to kill.

He stepped back into the shadows.

He would have liked to have lingered, watched as the body was discovered, enjoyed his quarry's pain and anguish when he heard the news, but the risk wasn't worth it. You couldn't have everything.

~~~

His prey had escaped, once again. Shadow could feel the sudden change, like a cloud passing across the sun. Everything a little duller, a little colder. He closed his eyes and searched for the faint trace of green which always marked the man's presence, just in case he was wrong this time, but he already knew he wasn't.

His quarry was no longer in the same world, he had jumped again, leaving Shadow behind.

Shadow felt the balance of his world tilt. These days he found it hard to remember exactly why he was chasing this man, what he had done. All he knew, was that he hated him and he needed to be punished. He would have to leave this place and follow, while the trail was still fresh. Sometimes, if he waited too long, he would arrive in the wrong world and have to keep searching, jumping and jumping until he found the right one.

He kept his eyes closed, and concentrated on the hall of mirrors he saw stretching beyond him to infinity, searching for that telltale flash of green. There! That one.

~~~

Shadow slid unnoticed into the new world. Unlike the man he followed, he never appeared as a real person. He did not arrive with a solid body that could talk and touch and meet other people, go out to lunch with friends or have a drink in a pub. No, it was if he existed in another space, somewhere squeezed inside the fabric that made up the worlds. Like a reflection in the mirror... or ink inside a bubble of skin.

No-one could hear him or even see him, not properly. He was always unnoticed, always alone. And that by itself was enough to make him hate the other man.

The Clockmaker's Shadow | ONC 2021 | LGBTWhere stories live. Discover now