The House of Shadows

“Why are there two exhausted kids in my hall?” It was the first thought that jumped to his mind, yet he forced it shut behind his lips, to decay with all the unsaid things.

They were crashed out cold, two young boys, although one suspiciously looked like an elf. The elf had the typical ‘elf’ features, but he had dark skin and was short, not to mention the streak of purple in his hair, Lord knew where that came from. Even though he didn’t go out much, he was pretty sure the elves didn’t have purple streaks in their hair. Positive.

The other one seemed angelic, small oval face but tall legs with muddy boots all over his green carpet. Or at least had been green once. Now it was just a muddy brown that evolved into prehistoric moss that might even cure Dragon sickness.

He was half tempted to boot them out. Or what was that word kids had started to use? Beat? Ah no, ‘yeet.’ Was that the word? He had just opened his mouth when he heard a man’s voice in his head.

A flashback. A memory.

Two children with begging bowls at the door as the twelve-year-old him struggled through Potions homework. His father opened the door, his expression, as usual, angry and frustrated. That man never got over his loathing of the world no matter how much he ranted about it. The door’s handle came off in his hand, as most things in the house did as all of them were rickety and broken, lurking in the tall shadows that stretched across the house. His father swore profusely, words he was used to by now, but words used so often that when he was younger, he thought that those words were his name.

He would never quite forget the expression on his father’s face as he gave those children a scolding they would never forget and invisible scars.

He had slammed the door with a vengeance, as the child at the desk did his work judging silently why that man was his father.

‘Mother would never do that.’

Of course, he wouldn’t. he was the exact opposite of his father, her memory as bright as the house next door. The difference between his mother and father was the difference between the two houses on the top of the hill, the one with the shadows, his house and the one opposite. He had often watched the children in their dance around as tinkling sounds of laughter rang in his ears.

The grass was greener on the other side, wasn’t it?

He did not blame his mother for going away. She was a witch, after all. She could fly away if she wanted to. She had done his father mercy by not frying him alive like some of the witches in town. The only thing was that she hadn’t done him any favour in leaving that nasty human alive.

‘People leave because they have no reason to stay.’

Ah, so he wasn’t a good enough reason. And that was okay.

He brought his attention back to the boys. He had promised himself that he would never be like his father.

‘And you know how well that turned out…’ A voice in his head told him.

He ignored it.

He bit his lip, deciding that he would let them sleep, but he should go away. They would think that it would be really strange and frightening to have a man staring at you while you sleep. He turned away but decided that he would talk to them before they left, maybe even do them a kindness.

‘No kindness.’

There was the problem. He had always wanted to be the opposite of his father. A nice, kind man who would help people. The voice was right, though. He knew how well that turned out.

But the will of being different from his father was stronger. Plus, there was always the saying-‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never harm me.’

‘But there were sticks and stones, and they did not break your bones. They broke your heart though. They would have done more service by breaking your bones. You have two hundred and six of them.’ An oily voice said in his ear.

This was no voice in his head. This was Bertram, his ghost, and the only thing his mother left behind.

‘Hold up, she did leave some eye of newt, though.’

He glared at Bertram. ‘Stop getting inside my head!’ he scolded.

Bertram shrugged. ‘Sorry, hon, part of the job. Plus, you’re so cute when you’re mad.’

‘What doesn’t make me want to kill you, makes me want to kill me,’ he scowled.

‘First of all, I can’t be killed. Second of all, why go half when you can say-“What doesn’t make me want to kill you makes me want to kill you!” This way, none of us dies!’

‘Why yes, Bertram. Very helpful.’ He said acidly, rolling his eyes.

He heard a disturbance in the hall. He froze.

‘Oh hell, it’s that stand innit?’ Bertram asked, shaking his head.

He ran, to find the two bleary-eyed kids cowering as the troll stand, which held umbrellas shrieking its head off. Another great present from his father, aside from the horrible memories and the will to never be him.

‘Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!’ he screamed back at the troll stand. The third time was the charm, it went back to its innocent, ugly looking self as the umbrellas were scattered in the hall.

‘It’s okay,’ he told the kids kindly. ‘I’m very sorry for that.’

‘I never expected an abandoned wizard in a shadowed house to be kind,’ the human remarked.

The elf elbowed him. ‘You will shut up now!’

‘I will shut up now!’ he answered amiably.

‘Um, kids? Why are you here?’ he asked, interrupting their very cheerful bromance.

The elf looked at him with wide eyes, and he realized that he had mismatched eyes, one a deep purple and the other a dark blue.

‘We were sent here for punishment, we were told that we could teach you something, I don’t know what. Do you know?’ the elf asked, zeroing his mismatched eyes on him.

‘I frankly do not.’

‘Ah, that’s helpful,’ the elf said sarcastically.

‘The only thing that you can do is probably wait here until your time limit is over so that you can go back a failure, but go back nonetheless.’

‘I never fail,’ the human protested.

‘Looks like we’ll have to. Unless you have something you want to learn?’ the elf looked at him hopefully. ‘The faster we get back to our quest, the better.’

‘No, I’m sorry. I am well past the learning stage. I am good here. But perhaps you’d like to eat- hold that thought,’ he said, sniffing as a spicy burning smell pervaded the room.

‘I’d offer you something to eat, but it appears that Bertram has burned it.’

‘Who’s Bertram?’ the boy asked, interested.

‘My very annoying ghosts. Unfortunately, I am paired with his for life.’ He said, sighing.

The elf looked at him sympathetically. ‘Strong power, sir. It is not a good experience.’

‘I take that personally,’ the boy sniffed.

He left the boys as conversation ran out and he went to the garden. It was a withered garden, apart from weeds that did not discriminate where they grew.

Unlike people.

The elf joined him in the garden as his human companion attempted to ‘bust his way out,’ as he so put it.

‘Nice garden,’ the elf offered.

He snorted. ‘It’s not half as good as my father’s and not a quarter of a patch on my grandfather’s. Both of them sour men, but good at growing gardens.’

‘Fathers.’ The elf nodded. ‘Fathers are never easy. Even if you have the elven kind of moonshine.’

‘That will be doubly hard,’ he responded, nodding wisely. ‘It is hard to have authority figures as parents.’

‘I didn’t think that you would understand,’ the elf looked at him, surprised. ‘It’s a big deal to have the elven king as your dad.’

‘Fathers are fathers, whoever they may be.’

‘Ah.’

‘Can I ask you something?’ he surprised himself by asking an elf-child that. But then. Elves were wise for their age, and moonshine elves were famed for their wisdom on the happiness of life.

‘Ask away. Maybe it’ll be learning.’

‘You know that house opposite to this? You must have seen it when you came in. you will not know the answer to this question, but can you tell me what is in there?’

The elf looked at him with surprise. ‘Why, I’ve been there. Nobody lives in that house. It is abandoned, possibly worse than this house.’ He shuddered. ‘That is something I do not want to relive.’

He stared at the elf, shocked. ‘That is simply not possible! I’ve seen people there! It is a happier house than mine, a place full of life and laughter.’

‘I don’t know maybe I’m wrong, but I’m sure!’ the elf furrowed his brow.

‘That is not possible!’ he got up and started pacing. The only reason he hadn’t left his house was the fact that the happiness in the house was something unattainable, simply not possible. So he stayed. Plus, where would he go?

‘I’m sorry.’

He stayed thinking till night came, as he stood next to his window, staring at the full moon. The kids were out there in the garden, their voices carried with the wind. He eavesdropped without meaning to.

Oh, don’t worry I don’t hate you. I am just extremely uninterested in your existence.’

‘Uninterested? Man, that’s even worse than hate,’ he pouted.

‘I know,’ the elf smirked wickedly. ‘That’s the whole point.’

‘This had to be the worst decision I ever made, this decision to come with you,’ he sighed dramatically.

‘It was never a decision. You simply fell in with me,’ the elf replied methodically.

He smiled despite himself. Kids had such great perceptions of life, and things worth living for. And there he was, with no goal, and not even a wish to be happier. Maybe he wished that things could be different.

Suddenly, the conversation moved on.

‘If you can’t stay, then run. Run far away, and I won’t stop you. But I hope that you won’t forget me.’

‘I stay because I want to live, and I want to dream…even though I may not know how.’

He shivered. Live, dream, run.

People who could do that we're lucky.

Suddenly, as if not by himself, he decided to visit the golden house. The beautiful one next door.

As he looked at it at night, it still glowed beautifully, yet the people inside seemed to be made of shadows. He wanted to know what lay in there, what was the secret of happiness that enchanted him so?

He laid a tentative hand on the gold knocker of the door. Here went nothing.

He stepped into the hallway, yet the hallway was as dark and suffocating as his own, perhaps even worse.

Was his life a lie? He ran into the rooms, yet found no one, just a pale shadow of his own house.

What did that mean?

He tripped back into the hallway, not knowing what to do with the information that what he idolized was now worse than his own. Perhaps they were just desperate dreams of a desperate boy.

As he thought, an apparition appeared in front of him. ‘Finally!’ he exclaimed, excited.

‘I am not here. I am no one.’

‘You can’t be anybody!’ he shrugged that off. ‘Now, where is everybody?’

‘There is nobody.’ The gold apparition said in a melancholy voice. ‘There were people, but they disappeared.’

‘How? When?’

‘This is no “House of Gold.” This is the “House of Mirrors.”’

‘What is that?’

‘It shows you all you want.’

‘So this is what I want?’ he asked, disgusted.

‘It is the House of Hope. What you hope for, you shall get.’

‘This is all I hope for?’

‘That is why I pity you. I pity the fools who live without hope.’

‘What am I supposed to do about that?’

‘Find a solution. Learn.’

The apparition faded.

He ran out. What was he supposed to do with that? He had no idea what he wanted.

‘Oh, but you do. You never tried, you fool.’

“I stay because I want to live, and I want to dream…even if I may not know how.’

Live, dream, stay.

He made his way back as the moon shone on him. It shone on his greasy hair and lean back, the person that everyone hated.

But he had to try.

He realized that in his efforts to not be like his father, he turned into his father. he had met the person he hated on the road he took to avoid it. If he took this chance, perhaps he was going to be the furthest person from his father.

He breathed in the cold air. People said that people changed when huge miracles happened. But in reality, it was the small things in life that would change him.

Why not live, even if for one day, and go on a path that no one mapped?

He flung open the door of the house, making the moonlight filter in, perhaps filling the house with deeper magic than anything.

‘Well, I’m going on an adventure. You boys want to come?’