Shadow Self

Arthur Drake coughed a breath of acrid smoke from his lungs and took a few steps backwards, away from the heat and the stench and the shrieking. His stomach churned with bile and his eyes filled with tears. Tension dragged its way through his muscles, pulling his ribs tight around his lungs and his shoulders high up to his jaw. Might this happen to him one day?

The jostling crowd shuffled backwards with him, expanding their circle away from the pyre as a wave of searing heat emanated from the burning wood. Evelyn Crow’s piercing screams scorched the air as much as the flames from the crackling branches. It wouldn’t take long for her rope bindings to burn through and then she would fall from the A-shaped poles into the heart of the furnace below.

The sun, setting in the west, cast the east side of the construction in shadow. From the apex of the wooden frame, down to the base of the fire, a shadow fell onto the long grass marking out the rough form of the night’s grim spectacle. The only thing not cast in shaded darkness was the outline of Evelyn herself. Her shadow was nowhere to be seen.

“Burn the witch! Burn the witch!” the masses chanted in an almost-frenzy.

A gong reverberated across the fields and the crowd fell silent, though the woman on the pyre continued to wail and screech.

“Evelyn Crow, damned witch of Bramcastle Valley." The high priest’s voice raised above the background noise. “You released your shadow, now we will release your soul. Be cleansed by the fires of oak and ash, by the words we spoke, by the flesh we lashed. Be cleansed! Be cleansed!”

The villagers might have been on the edge of a celebration at the downfall of poor Evelyn, but Arthur was mourning. Mourning his companion, mourning his mentor and mourning his chances. He stayed to hear the speech of the high priest, but expected to regret it. He still couldn't quite believe that this man of authority was burning his own sister alive.

“Shadowmagic has been outlawed in The North for two score years and eight," the black-cloaked priest shouted at the crowd. “A trusted soldier of King Welland’s army released his own shadow, and used it to access battle plans. He sold the information to a southern General, and the battle would have been lost, with thousands of our kin enslaved, if King Welland hadn’t sacrificed his own son to a duel with the southern champion. Separation of the shadow from the body is an aberration. Let the burning of Evelyn Crow be a reminder to you all.”

The gong sounded again. Arthur shuddered.

“I burn you in the name of King Welland. You released your shadow, now we will release your soul. Be cleansed by the fires of oak and ash, by the words we spoke, by the flesh we lashed. Be cleansed! Be cleansed!”

Arthur could stomach it no more. Not the sight, not the smell and not the ear-piercing sound. He checked the ground to his left, his shadow was in place, following his every move, just where it should be. It was time to go home.

“Goodbye Evelyn. I’m so sorry,” he whispered behind his hand and turned his back on the flaming mound and on Evelyn's cruel-hearted brother.

Returning to his simple log cabin, Arthur paced back and forth in the lamplight, his shadow striding alongside him at every step.

“You don’t have to do that when we’re at home.” Arthur scratched his head. “No one's here to see us.”

His shadow stopped still, frozen against the back wall of the living room, while Arthur continued to pace. After a few seconds it dropped back into line, matching his rhythm step by step, mirroring the swing of his arms.

“Stop it! Stop it! I freed you for a reason. You have your own will now, you don’t have to mimic me when we're alone. It’s been a month! Evelyn said her shadow only took a day to adjust.”

The shadow shrank down to half Arthur’s height and took to the far corner, cowering away from his harsh words.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you. I just. . . it was hard to see Evelyn put to death. Without her you would still be a mindless attachment, following me about with no choice in it. You should be sad, too.” Arthur stopped walking and held his head in his hands, leaning against the bookcase.

The shadow grew to full size again and reached its arm along the wall towards the bookshelves, extending its shady fingers until they met Arthur’s shoulder, as if to comfort him. Arthur looked up and caught a glimpse of his companion’s hand settling at the top of his arm.

“Why don’t you go and look for Mary?” he said. “It's dark out, you won’t be seen, and no one will come here – the whole town will be at the fire until dawn. The whole town apart from Mary. She’ll be mourning somewhere in the forest." She was the only person who would miss Evelyn more than him. Would she ever forgive her father for burning her favourite aunt? "Oh, my dearest Mary, I wish you would accept my support. I could do so much for you.”

Arthur’s shadow hovered a few inches above the ground for a moment. Then it pulled back its right arm, formed a fist and punched the shadow of the vase on the corner of the dining table. The vase shadow distorted momentarily, then broke into several shady pieces and fell silently to the floor. The shadow slipped across the back wall, round the corner of the room, and drifted through the sliver of a gap between the door frame and the closed front door.

Arthur sighed. He liked that vase, but now it would have to go. Anything without a shadow would raise suspicion, and a badly damaged shadow would fool no one. He'd have to destroy the vase to destroy the shadow completely, and get rid of all the evidence. He put the ornament into a pillowcase and smashed it with a poker from the fireside. He put the pieces into the bin. The broken shadow melted into the floor and was gone.

Arthur opened the rounded wooden box on his dining table and took out a creased page of paper. Had he made a terrible mistake? He unfolded the sheet and began to read out loud to himself:

Dearest Arthur,

It is of the utmost importance that you destroy this note as soon as your aim is achieved. Should either of us be caught performing these acts then surely my brother will ensure that death will swiftly follow.

Take this as a warning from me – once separation is achieved, the part of you removed will develop its own opinions, its own attitude. It will, of course, be you. But it will be your shadow self, the darker parts of you. It may manifest in unexpected ways; it may magnify the parts of you that are the most distasteful. There is no way to predict which parts, but know that they could turn ugly.

However, your yearning for Mary, my spinster niece, gives me hope. I have imparted as much information to you about her as I can. It is now up to you to win her heart by any means necessary. There is no reason for either of you to be lonely in this life. Use your shadow to get to know her. Woo her with the knowledge it uncovers. I will die happy if she avoids my fate, spending my old age unmarried and childless. You both deserve happiness, companionship, togetherness.

As promised, the instructions are overleaf. Follow them precisely and then destroy this letter.

Destroy this letter.

Yours,

Evelyn 

Arthur balled up the paper and placed it in the fire grate. He struck a match and lit it, watching the smoke spiral into the chimney. A tiny movement in the corner by the door attracted his attention.

“Why are you back so soon? Were you seen?”

The shadow grew to full size and flattened itself against the wall, shaking its head from side to side, indicating no.

“Did you find Mary? You haven’t had time to go to the forest and back.”

Again, the shadow shook its head. It reached a dark grey hand out across the floor towards Arthur’s feet, brushing its fingers against his boots.

“If you have no new information about my Love then go out and get me some and don’t come back with nothing! I created you for a reason. Do not let me down.”

The shadow lifted up from the floor, stretched across the full length of the ceiling, slithered headfirst through the window frame and sneaked back out into the night.

Arthur woke with the sun probing its way into his room. He turned over, away from the light, and found his shadow lying next to him in the bed. It was sprawled out, full length, head on the spare pillow.

“Hey! You’re supposed to sleep on the sofa.” Arthur poked at the shadow with a finger, but it pulled itself away from his touch, dimpling its outline against the mattress so he couldn’t quite catch it. “Maybe it’s good you’re here. I need you to come with me today. I have to go to the market and I can’t be seen without you. They have watercress on Mondays, Mary’s favourite. I’m going to practice making that salad she likes. If I’m lucky, they'll have her favourite yellow roses too. I might surprise her with a bunch. I can leave them on her doorstep while she’s out teaching. She’ll like that. Coming home to another surprise.”

The shadow pulled away from Arthur’s body in a sulk.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that. I need you on your best behaviour to go out. You like following me, I know you do.”

A moment later the shadow quietly fell into place at Arthur's side and seemed to cheer up a little as it did so.

Arthur and his shadow made their trip to the market and dropped twelve yellow roses outside Mary's door with a note that read "From your admirer, I'm so sorry about your aunt." Then they returned to the cabin, where Arthur removed a bag of watercress from his knapsack.

"I do love her, you know," he said to the shadow. "And again, there's no need for you to be connected to my every move when we're alone at home. Please find your own space to exist in." Arthur washed the watercress and cut up some radishes. His shadow stepped back a few inches, but continued to mimic his movements as he chopped tomatoes, lettuce, spring onions and apple. "Honestly! It's as if you're obsessed with my every move! What's wrong with you?"

His shadow retreated across the room and collapsed into a heap of darkness on the sofa. Arthur was past caring if it was upset with him. He was much more focussed on Mary's favourite salad. If he couldn't dine with her, he could at least dine like her. Since Evelyn would no longer be joining him for dinner twice a week, it was time to find out just how much information his shadow could glean about the elusive object of his desires.

Arthur finished creating the dish and sat at the dining table to try it. It was a little peppery, but rather enjoyable, especially as he felt it brought him closer to Mary. Even if she didn't know it. One day she would realise that he was the man for her, and all would fall into place.

"Since you failed to even find Mary last night, you need to go to her house tonight and watch through the windows. You must not be seen, of course, so keep out of the way. I have no intention of ending up on a flaming pyre. And don't forget that if they burn me to death you will also cease to exist." Arthur cleared the dishes. His shadow stood up and followed him. "I want you to find out what she did with my roses. Are they in pride of place on her mantlepiece? Has she kept them by her bed? Will part of me be close to her as she sleeps?"

The shadow threw its head back, as if to sigh, and slipped away under the front door into the twilight.

Arthur was glad to be left alone for a while, and he used the time to work on his oil painting of Mary. It was done entirely from memory but was quite a good likeness, if he did say so himself. In it she was standing in front of his bookcase, holding a perfect yellow rose, and there was a gold wedding ring on her finger, the exact same one he kept in a box under his pillow.

His shadow did not return for several hours. Arthur had gone to sleep, and it snuggled in next to him on the bed, as if it had never been away.

As the sun pushed itself between Arthur's curtains the following morning. He yawned and turned over, stretching his arms out in front of him. His shadow nestled itself deeper into this accidental embrace. Arthur opened one eye. Then the other.

"What are you doing?" he snapped. "You're supposed to sleep in the living room, on the sofa. Anyone would think we were a couple. Is that what you think? Do you think we're in a romantic relationship? We are not!"

The shadow shot across the sheets, dropped onto the floor and rolled under the bed. Arthur leaned over the edge of the bed, hanging his head, upside down, above the rug. "Where have you gone? I can still see you, you know, your antics don't impress me. Now what did you find out about my beloved last night? Did she adore her roses?"

The shadow shook its head.

"What do you mean 'no'?"

The shadow, still hiding under the bed, presented one hand to Arthur and made scissor movements with its fingers.

"She trimmed the stems?"

The shadow shook its head.

"She cut them up?"

The shadow nodded. Arthur gasped.

"Did she cut them up? Did she cut the heads off?" Arthur jumped out of bed and lay on the floor, facing the shadow. "Why would she do that?"

The shadow gave a nod, and followed it with a shrug.

Arthur stared hard across the floor. The morning was edging in from the window on the other side of the room, dimly lighting up the under-bed space. There was something else under there, something other than his own shadow. Something dark, and flat, and spooky.

"What have you got?"

The shadow shrugged.

"Seriously, what have you got under there? And how have you got it? You can't carry anything but shadows! Come out and show me."

The shadow shuffled forwards, dragging one hand behind itself, and something followed, but not by choice. It slowly emerged from under the bed and Arthur stood up to look at it. His shadow stood up too.

Draped over its outstretched arms, limp and lifeless, was a second shadow. A woman's shadow. Mary's shadow.

"What happened? Did you do this?"

Arthur's shadow dropped Mary's shadow to the floor, kicked it in the ribs, stepped over it and disappeared under the door and into the living room.

Arthur's blood boiled and then ran like ice. "You jealous fool!" he shouted through the bedroom door. "What have you done?! Her father will kill us both!"

Mary's shadow was dead, but fully intact. Its outline was easily recognisable as the focus of Arthur's obsession, from the curly hair, right down to the heeled boots, so Mary herself must be alive. Alive, but shadowless.

Shadowless. How long would it take for anyone to notice? He had to warn her.

***

"Who's there?" Mary shouted from the inside of her front door as Arthur knocked again.

"It's Arthur Drake. I must talk with you. It's a matter of the utmost importance."

"I can't see anyone today. Especially not you. Stop creeping around here and don't leave me any more flowers."

Arthur stared daggers at his shadow. "She knows," he whispered. "She knows she's missing her shadow. I can't believe you did this! Do you know how serious this is?"

Arthur's shadow shook its fist as if to mock his anger, then bent double in laughter.

"It's the middle of the day! Someone will see you! Get back in place!" he hissed.

The shadow stepped away, a good two feet away.

"What are you doing?"

Arthur glanced down the track leading away from Mary's cabin. A tall man in a black cloak on a bay horse was approaching. He had a bunch of yellow roses in one arm. The high priest, probably coming to console his daughter.

"Come back. Come back! I'm sorry. I beg you to get back in place."

Arthur's shadow seemed to no longer care what happened to Arthur, or to itself. It ignored his pleas and crouched down onto the dirt track, making itself as small as possible, before sloping off towards the forest.