The Shadow's Shadow

This was the final creative piece I submitted at university.

'Your name is Jonathan Wheeler, you're thirty-three, you're married and you work as an administrator at the local university.' Dr. Wallace read the file of his patient aloud as he sat opposite him. He had shaggy, unkempt hair that skirted the shoulders of his three pound suit, leaving a small mound of dandruff that was as clear as chalk on a blackboard. His tie was undone as if he was wearing it not as a tie, but as a medallion. He looked like he had not shaved for a month as a messy beard grew out of his chin wildly. His most distinguishing features however were the huge bags under his eyes.

'That's right. I'm only working there temporarily because I want to be a full-time writer. A stupid idea, I know, but everyone has to have a dream, right?'

'Of course. So, Mr. Wheeler, what can I do for you?' Dr. Wallace took out his notebook and pen and looked directly at Wheeler.

'No, I don't think I can do this.' Wheeler rose from his chair and headed towards the door. He stopped when the doctor called after him.

'Why did you come to see me then?'

'For a start, I don't think you'll believe me and I need you to or else I'll end up in a straitjacket.'

'Not necessarily. Your story may be a common one.'

'Oh, it isn't.'

Dr. Wallace signalled with his hand. 'Mr. Wheeler, far be it from me to make a snap judgement in light of us only having a minute's acquaintanceship, but you seem to want to get something off your chest. May be you need someone impartial to discuss this with and if so, I'm your man. Besides, if you didn't wish to talk about it, why did you come in the first place?'

'To borrow your terms, it was a “snap decision.” I always feel so useless asking for help.'

'Everyone needs help sometimes, even we humble psychiatrists. Of course I can't force you to confess your worries, but remember patient and doctor confidentiality; nothing will leave this room.'

Wheeler sighed and sunk back into the green leather bound armchair opposite the doctor as if he wanted to be swallowed by it. 'I might as well, I've nothing better to do.'

'Good. Now please, tell me what's on your mind.'

Wheeler leaned forward towards Wallace and lowered his voice as if he was concerned about an eavesdropper. 'Before I begin, I want to stress that although I want to be a writer, I am not a fanciful person. I keep the wild ideas to fiction. I don't exactly revel in the same insanity in real life.'

'Insanity?'

Wheeler laughed. ' I guess that's a dirty word to say in a psychiatrist's office, huh?'

Dr. Wallace smiled. 'Relax. I may be a psychiatrist, but I am still human. Forget about insane asylums, men in lab coats and other ideas that come with the stigma of my profession and just talk to me, man to man, about your problem.'

'Well I keep seeing this thing, a figure.'

Dr. Wallace began to take notes. 'A figure? Could you elaborate?'

'It's hard to describe. The thing that haunts me is as undefined as a stick man. It appears to be relatively humanoid but everything is off about it.'

'Off?'

'Yeah. Its bald head is too round, its arms are too long, its legs are too thin and its shoulders are too broad. It is always cloaked in shadow as if it were a living silhouette independent of a source. I look at it from different angles, yet my perception of it never changes.'

'What do you mean exactly?'

'Take last Monday for example. I was at the shopping centre buying a birthday gift for my wife. In the process I had to walk over a bridge on the first floor that connected the mall to the car park...'

'Yes, I know it.'

'Yeah. Well, as you know, it overlooks the plaza where the smokers converge. It was rather cold so I rushed to go back indoors but then I saw it. This was the truly weird thing though, Doc, because the figure wasn't in front of me or behind me; in fact, it wasn't even on the same level as me, it was right down there in the plaza. Now when we see someone from above, we may see a bird's eye view or a skewed angle of them depending on our position, but with the figure I could see it as if it were in front of me. It stood there dead straight. It was not physically possible for the figure to appear to me at that angle from the height I was.'

Wallace was taking notes. He raised his head at the silence and said: 'Carry on, Mr. Wheeler, I am listening.'

'I withdrew into the mall and it was there again as if it had teleported.'

'What then?'

'I just carried on with my shopping, but my head was always looking over my shoulder.'

'I admire your bravery.'

'Yeah, you expect me to be scared of it but this is the main point of my problem. It's not fright, not any more. It's annoyance. I just want that thing out of my life.'

Wheeler got up out of the chair and started pacing around the office. There was little room, so he settled with walking around in a circle. 'Quite a premise, huh?'

'When did you first see this figure of yours? It might help in finding out its purpose.'

Wheeler stopped pacing and stood still. He looked straight into Wallace's eyes. 'I wish I could remember. I know intellectually that it's been a few years and yet I can't fight the feeling that it has always been there with me.'

'How does that work?'

'I have clues that it was recent. For example, I know for a fact that I was an adult when I first encountered the figure, but at the same time my heart is telling me that it must have been with me since birth but I never noticed it.'

'You seem to notice new things through adult eyes,' Wallace suggested.

'It seems that way. In my childlike state I must have seen the figure as wishful thinking; an imaginary friend come to light, perhaps. As a child any thing's possible, it's only when you're an adult that you criticise life and realise that fairytales are just fairytales. Beyond this theory though, I can't remember if the figure was actually there during my childhood and I realised it was there as an adult or whether it appeared recently.'

'So let us say that this figure's been with you for a while, it must have tried to approach you.'

'Believe it or not it hasn't. When it appears it always maintains the same range of distance from me from ten yards to, around I would say, fifty yards. It looks like it's observing me.'

'Well, have you tried to approach it?'

'That's almost a silly question. I've tried every time but it's useless. It's like trying to chase after the sun on the horizon. No matter how fast I run, it is always the same distance away from me but it doesn't seem to move. I yell after it but it never responds.'

'How would you say it does move, then?'

'I don't know, it's hard to explain.' Wheeler sat back down in his chair and placed his chin between his thumb and forefinger. 'Sometimes, as I said earlier, it seems to teleport from one place to the other, but on different occasions it recedes into the background like someone's shadow.'

'May be it is your shadow.'

Wheeler laughed. 'Oh Doctor, do you think I'm so foolish? I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer but I know what I see and it is not my shadow.'

'I'm sorry, Mr. Wheeler, but in the process of unravelling your mystery we have to eliminate every possible explanation, even the obvious ones.' Wheeler nodded, took a deep sigh and relaxed in the chair which made an audible creak.

The two had sat in silence for a considerable amount of time. Wallace was fiddling with his pen while reading his notes while Wheeler stared at the ornaments that adorned Wallace's office. Something in particular had caught his eye: a jade Buddha statue. Wheeler chuckled, 'You a religious man, Doc?'

'Hm?' Wheeler pointed at the statue and Wallace followed his finger point. 'Oh! Not really, no. I just have that as decoration.'

'It looks peaceful,' said Wheeler.

'I'd imagine it would.'

'I'd love to be a statue,' said Wheeler, breaking the awkward silence.

'Really?'

'Yeah, sounds weird I know, but I could just sit on a shelf and relax and observe. I wouldn't care if I were forgotten and I was collecting dust because I'd be in peace.'

'Yeah... Forgive me if I sound harsh here, Mr. Wheeler, but if this figure doesn't approach or harm you, why are you here? You could simply ignore it,' said Wallace fetching the statue down from the shelf and giving it to Wheeler, 'or, you could model yourself on our little friend here. Relax, meditate and put it out of your mind.'

Wheeler smiled and examined the figurine, 'I guess my story has fascinated you, huh?'

'Every story my clients tell me intrigues me, but yours is one of the oddest I've heard.'

'So you believe me, then?' Wheeler asked.

Wallace looked away from Wheeler. 'Truthfully? I'm not sure yet. It may yet still be a bad dream.'

Wheeler scoffed and put the figurine on the table, 'I knew you wouldn't commit that easily. That isn't the most of my worries though. If the figure just affected my perspective on life I wouldn't be here because I'd phase it out as you suggest, but it's destroying my relationship too.'

'How so? Does Mrs. Wheeler see it?'

'I wish she did so we could talk about it.' Wheeler looked around as if he were confessing to a pastor. 'Claire and I haven't made love for as long as I can remember because it was always there, night after night.'

'What, in your bedroom?'

'Yes! You have no idea how unnerving it is having that thing stand at the foot of your bed. How do porn stars cope with having people watch and film them?'

Wallace chuckled, 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh. So its presence affects your performance?'

'Well wouldn't it yours?'

'Erm...'

'Doctor, you seem like a man of the world so I'll spare you the embarrassment of telling you every sordid detail but I used to sleep with my wife.'

'Used to?'

'That's right. Claire was getting tired of my complaining so she threw me out of the bed and I haven't been back in there since. She thinks I'm having an affair or, worse, she thinks I'm impotent.'

'I'm sorry.'

'She hardly speaks to me now. We weren't exactly a model couple to begin with, so this nonsense has put us on the edge.'

'Haven't you tried to discuss this with her?'

'Of course but she never listens. It's gotten so bad she's locked me out of our bedroom, so I sleep in the spare room now. As you can imagine it's small with just the bare essentials in it but it suits me down to the ground. Any thing's better than hearing Claire's nagging. The reason I tell you this is not for sympathy but because, as you can guess, the figure still haunts me in there. A lot of the time the figure doesn't seem to be in the room with me.'

'How is it affecting you then?'

'The bed is underneath the window and the window is protected from the night by some Venetian blinds. The street lamps behind it obviously illuminate the window so it is never truly dark in there. It's not ideal being underneath this dim light, however you become accustomed to it.'

'Granted.'

'Any way, after a week's peaceful sleep where nothing untoward happened, I went to bed the following Sunday. I wasn't too tired so I decided to write a little. After a while my page became dark and I became shaded by some sort of darkness. I thought that may be the street lights had short circuited so I thought nothing of it at first. Eventually, a small light managed to break through the darkness so I could finally see what its source was: a huge shadow which extended from the window onto my wall and when I say “huge”, I mean it. Its head was as round as a football while the monolith of the body was latched onto it. It was the first time in a very long while that I was scared of it.'

'Hmm, I can imagine. Surely this can't be the same figure though. You yourself had said that the figure seemed like the size of a regular human, not a giant.'

'It was a shadow, therefore the figure was probably a few yards away and its shadow was stretched on my wall. I'm no scientist, but that'd be my guess, any way.'

Wallace frowned and nodded. 'Oh, I see. Does it ever come into the room?'

'Not to my knowledge but it's the expectation of it that afflicts me. I can't count the sleepless nights I've had, eyes closed but conscious, aware of its presence. I try to forget about it but the clock always seems to tick louder and more regular as if the ticks were running away from the tocks. Then the ensuing silence sounds as deafening as a pneumatic drill.'

'You do look rather tired.'

Wheeler pointed to his eyes as if he wanted to stab them with his index fingers. 'Tired? Look at these! Bags so big I could hide a body in them!' Wheeler put his finger in the corner of his eye and scooped out flakes of rheum that dyed the tip of his index finger green. He put his finger in the air for Wallace to see.'This tired enough, Doc?'

Wallace flinched. 'I see your point, Mr. Wheeler.'

Wheeler wiped his finger on his trousers leaving a trail of green refuse. Wallace squirmed at the sight and looked at Wheeler. Wallace continued, 'So this is why you've come to see me?'

Wheeler took off his tie and mopped his sweaty forehead. He then pocketed it and undid his top button, 'Hot in here, isn't it?'

'Open the window if you like.'

Wheeler opened the blinds and his slanted eyes became full. His mouth was open like a yawing hippopotamus; his jaw shivered, drenching his suit in dribble. 'It's here! Right in front of me!'

'What?!' Wheeler signalled to Wallace and beckoned to him to join him at the window.

'It's there, can't you see?'

Wallace was temporarily blinded by sunlight. He squinted. 'No, I just see the street.'

'But, it's the other side of the window pane, you can't even see the street as he blocks the view!'

'You said it always kept its distance from you!'

'It did but now it's here, right in front of my face!' Wheeler opened the window and bellowed: 'Hey, you! You have been hounding me for too long now! What are you and what do you want from me?' The shoppers below looked up at Wheeler and started gossiping amongst themselves. Wheeler stood on the pane. 'Answer me!'

'Now, Wheeler!' Wallace tried to restrain Wheeler but Wheeler shook free.

'Nothing to say? You've ruined my life! My wife hates me, my mental state is crumbling and I have to see a quack! Well, I'm going to kill you, I don't care what happens to me, I just want you out of the remains of my life!' With tears in his eyes and a trembling body he outstretched his arms and pounced. Wallace had been trying to grab Wheeler's legs but he was gone.