Shadows

I bent the rules of the prompt... just a little, don't worry! :)

Ru gave me this prompt, link to her bio

https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/author/r-k-d2defe/

Prompt: Imagine you are somebody's shadow for a day.

You’re running along the beach during the early morning hours, feeling the soft cool sand between your toes. Your feet touch upon the waves, the slightest bit, refreshing, compared to the heat of the sun. You are alone, or at least you think you are. 

You continue to run, faster and faster. I am forced to move with you, unwillingly. You cause me so much pain sometimes. Always being outside, always having the windows open. When I exist, I feel excruciating pain. I wish you could feel it too, to teach you not to go outside anymore. 

As you run, my feet touch upon yours. My motion is identical to yours. I can feel the sand between my toes, just like you. Some of your friends call me a copycat. Whether they truly notice me, that’s a different story. I see the other’s, suffering from your friends. I am a different version of you, the darker version. 

You return home to your fancy million dollar house. The curtains are all open, allowing the beautiful sunrise in. You walk across the living room to reach the bathroom. I bang my head against your stupid lamp and curse. You don’t hear me, or you just ignore me, I couldn’t tell. You head into the bathroom, and for a moment, I’m engulfed in darkness, a pleasant feeling in this too bright of life. But of course, being you, turn on the lights. You walk into your shower, and I carefully tread alongside you. Even though the sun isn’t in your bathroom, I still am. The water rains down on you, causing me to distort. I scream, but you continue on with your showering as nothing has happened. 

You step out of the shower, thankfully, and get dressed. I mimic you, picking out the light blue polo shirt and slipping it on. You work from home, so you sit down at your computer with a bowl of cereal. Of course, the windows are open. For some reason, I feel like water and sun hurt me the most. I’ve gotten used to it, but it still sucks. You start to type out some sort of report, and I type with you even though I wanted to go and hide in your walk-in closet. You finish your bowl of cereal. I’m not sure if this was an accident or not, but you knock over the empty bowl and it lands on the floor, right where I was. I wanted ice to soothe the wound, but you just bend down and pick up the bowl and put it in the dishwasher. That annoyed me, and I just wanted to go to your closet, into the darkness. 

You sit down at your recliner, with your computer sitting next to you. You hop on your first video call today to discuss revenue or something. As your boss is speaking to you and your team, I can see the others, trying to fight against the overwhelming will of terrible-minded humans. We are half as strong as you, but with twice the brains. I unwillingly watch the rest of the meetings until noon. You hate them too, I can feel it. 

You take a quick bathroom break, thankfully with the light off. I felt a little better, but didn’t get used to the refreshing feeling. Because of course, you walk back out, walk through your living room--where I hit my head again on your lamp--and sit back down. You sigh, and start typing out the report that your boss wanted by 2 o’clock today. A few seconds in, you slam your hand down on the table and start to get up. I sigh also, as I unfortunately have to get up with you and trip over your chair, unable to fall. You grab a drink of Cola and sit back down, taking a long sip. You look back down at your report that was due in the next half an hour, yet still showed a blank page. You start entering data from last year's quarterly sales. You hated switching back and forth between tabs, and I could feel the desire for a second screen. 

The deadline comes around and your boss calls. You reluctantly answer the phone. He’s asking where the report is, clearly a little irritated. You stand up and start to pace, trying to think of a good excuse to tell your boss. As your boss continues to scream at you at how important this report was, you kick the chair. It didn’t hurt quite as much as what I thought it would. 

After your unfortunate phone call, you step onto your balcony to get some fresh air. I felt a little smaller, like I usually do around this time. You didn’t want to do anymore work. You walk back inside and shut your computer. You walk down your well lit stairwell. I am split, and thrown everywhere. It is an overwhelming feeling. You step into the garage, grab your keys off the wall, and get into your car.

You drive and drive for hours, and end up at a nice looking restaurant. You step out of the car, and as you do, I am thrown into the side of your car. You walk into this restaurant. Candles were lit at each table. I almost faint, seeing the others. There were hundreds of them all in one place, all dancing in the candlelight. I wanted you to leave. But you don’t. You pick a table and sit down. A waiter comes to serve you, and you order some sort of shrimp meal. 

It comes to you a short time later and you dig in, the stress of work making you hungry. I find myself moving with the candlelight. You inhale your food, and a waiter comes to ask you if you want dessert. You say no, pay the bill, and leave a huge tip. 

You were there longer than you wanted to be, as it was already 9 o’clock at night. You begin the long drive home, jamming out to some seriously loud music. Stop lights were horrible for me. I was displayed in all directions. Around midnight, you arrive home. You walk up the stairwell again, the one with all the lights. You were tired, leaning against the rails, my head banging the ceiling. You head into your bedroom, the tiredness consuming you. You lie down in your bed, and click off the lamp next to you. I felt free, the surrounding darkness comforting me.