John only 'likes' his house

It wasn’t unknown that John had a certain despondence about him during the winter.

It sunk slowly into his heart in September and only truly lifted in mid-march.

Like an ever present shadow in his head, it made him moody to say the least.

The kind of moody you lost hours in.

How he decided that a night shift would help was beyond him.

But he felt like he was getting better, it was edging into the time of year when he could really think again. When he got back into his seasonal work.

Finally having a home even just to wallow in was enjoyable, if just faintly.

Even if the draft matched it’s rural aesthetic.

He loved his house, and even now with only an otherwise disappointing year under his belt, he felt a kinship with it.

Though not so much with the things in it.

Now most would doubt him, considering his laundry list of mental issues, but there were things here.

But they were really nothing to concern anyone with, especially with his issues.

They were Blightful, and while John didn’t much like them they were as much a part of the house as it’s foundation.

He understood that his lifestyle wasn’t unobtrusive either, while he did spend a good amount of time away, he tended to be a bit lazy when he was home.

Which he imagined was unnerving for them, considering the history of the place.

He might’ve liked the history of it, but there wasn’t much kinship to be had with that, he wasn’t a farmer or a classical landowner.

He was comparatively a bum.

So John mostly hung out in a circuit of his own house with his spectral roommates.

He’d eat, he’d sleep, he’d laze about or exercise, but he made a point of not bothering them when he saw.

They weren’t like bees or other animals, they had to go out of their way to hurt you, they didn’t come into existence with claws or stingers, strength or hunger.

They had to choose.

Was all he could think, when it happened.

When the world stopped around him.

His heart beat starkly in his chest, a riveting tune pulsing through his brain, as the ink of the room buzzed into a fuzzy electric shake, before snapping into a smooth sinuous shape.

It was beautiful, and in the sharp shifting breeze of spring it was lively.

It looked at him with eyes only discerning in their glower

John bolted as it moved to meet edges with him, John had managed to anger a shade in his house to spite all his intentions.

John let the thought be, as he ran out of his house.

The thing didn’t follow.

Lucky for John, he hadn’t left his Cell behind.

The problem was that he didn’t really have anyone to call, John couldn’t really trust his work friends with something so odd, and while he wasn’t too far out he didn’t want to bother anyone.

He thought hard for a moment, though it didn’t mean much.

He hadn't called his mother in a while.

So he decided to ring her up.

He waited at the phone for almost twenty minutes before he got a connection.

“Hello, What is it?”

“I need help.”

“What’s wrong dear?”

John paused, wanting to explain properly, “Have you ever had shadows in your house?”

“In the daylight sure. All kinds of things can block the light in a house.”

“That’s not what I mean mom. I mean like Shades, the spectral entity”

“Oh you mean-” 

“yep.”

“Well if it's a shadow beast you may have to burn down your house.”

“But mom, I like my house.” 

“Well, what about insurance?”, John always forgets why it is that he doesn’t like to talk to his mother. And then they talk. 

His silence was apparently enough to anger her, “now, you don’t need to be like that. What has you so worried?”

“The shadows are angry at me.”

“What, cause you ran?”

“No, before that.”

“Well, why would that be?”

John didn’t feel he really needed to know why, he didn’t think it would be irrational to dislike him, he was an interloper. 

What had him convinced really? He’d paused for too long.

“Honey, are you still there?” 

“yes.”

“Are you okay, were you right?”, his mother asked him, like he needed to know for sure. Something sparked on the edges of him, the Shadow had walked from his house.

He’d turned his head to watch it move, he finally saw it fully, the form it chose to meet him, “No, I don’t think I was,” 

“I don’t think I can stay on the line right now. I’ll call tomorrow?”

“Johnny sweetheart, what’re you doing?”

“I’m not really sure mom,” he really wasn’t, what could he say? “I love you, you know.” he said, like he really thought he’d die. Last words were a terrible thing to share with your mother.

“I love you too dear. Don’t do something stupid.”

“I won’t, I’ll call you. So don’t worry.” they said their goodbyes, as his eyes shifted from his thoughts to the Shadow he was sure was staring. He watched it, as it moved from the doorway down the path.

He was never one for true logic, he was half sure that the creature would eat him anyway, opposing it’s form, its nature just to be rid of him.

He let the edges of it touch his hand, and while he knew it was morose it wasn’t angry.

It was the shade itself, and it knew how lively things like him felt.

The fear that things like him had, for things like it.

It wasn’t gonna eat him, and he just traumatized his mother over a domestic dispute.

John couldn’t think about that now, as his new friend let him embrace it.

It really did buzz, and it was in fact fuzzy, there was a static to it’s form that was unlike anything else.

Maybe John could love everything about his house.

Even his roommates.