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'POWERLESS' is out NOW!
LORD OF SHADOW
“But ... shadows must be something. They can't be nothing?”
Mummy gives Dad a funny look. She's shaking again. Things are silent for a bit so I scrape my knife across the plate through the beans’ sauce trying to make rows of straight lines like a farmer's field. I imagine planting baked beans and growing rows and rows of baked bean trees that I'd harvest once a year and sell to Tesco. Eventually Dad speaks.
“Shadows are nothing Simon. They are just... places where the light isn't. Because light is bright the shadows are dark. They aren't a 'thing'.”
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.
“Then why is Mummy afraid of them? You can't be afraid of nothing?”
Mummy gets up quickly, bumping the dinner table making the plates and knives and forks jump. She walks to the sink. She just stands there shaking while Dad looks at her back.
“People are afraid of different things... silly things... post boxes!”, he says, turning to look at me with a strange wide grin on his face. “I remember reading about this man who was terrified of red post boxes. Couldn't go near them. Completely silly.”
He looks at me like one of those crossword puzzles he can't get. I stare back down at my plate. Scrape. Scrape. George starts hammering his yellow plastic spoon onto his high chair table. It's annoying but Dad doesn't stop him.
“But even if it's nothing, the fear of it is real. Isn't it Dad?” When I look up he's staring at Mummy's back again.
“Yes Simon. That's real.”
George starts kicking his legs and Dad fusses with his food.
I can't tell them about the shadows, they wouldn't believe me. If they even listened.
We are on the hills behind our house and I'm trying to kick my ball straight, but it keeps going off to the side. Mummy made me dress up warm because it's cold, even though the sun is out.
The ball goes to the left this time under some bushes. I run and pick it up then look back down the hill. I like it up here. The houses are like little cardboard boxes, in straight and curvy rows as they head towards town. They are all lit up with the sun, the windows shining, hurting my eyes, apart from the Brightmans at number twelve who had, “an expensive waste of money put in when they got their windows done”, according to Dad.
Dad is halfway between me and the cardboard houses. He tucks in George's tiny clothes as he squirms in the push-chair and talks to him in his silly voice. The same one he uses to talk to cats.
Dad calls me on because they are heading back to the house then talks to George again. He is always talking to George. So is Mummy. But she's not here this time, she wanted a lie down.
"Dad, watch this!"
I'm going to kick this one straight and show him I can do it. I put the ball down on the grass and try to stop it rolling down the hill.
"Dad!"
George is kicking his legs and Dad tries to distract him.
“Dad, look!”
He doesn't look and calls me to hurry up. I suddenly don't care any more and let the ball roll down the hill, bouncing over clumps of grass as it tries to get to the house before Dad and George.
Something seems funny today. I can feel the sun on my face, but it doesn't tingle me as it usually does. I feel cold even with my coat on. As I'm standing there the sun goes down behind the hill. The windows stop shining at me and the grass around me gets darker and darker. All the houses are starting to fade into the same colour as the shadows smother them.
Dad calls me again to come back to the house, but I feel happy here. I feel warm now. I don't need my coat on. I could take it off and run around in my t-shirt all evening until it went dark and I felt tired. But I know they won't let me. So I stomp all the way down the hill to pick up the ball, stomp up the back garden path, stomp through the kitchen and drop it in the hallway. They don't even notice.
Mummy is talking to George in his room as I make the toothpaste froth in my mouth. I do a big horse grin until I start to dribble a bit then spit it out. Then I watch the curling water suck it down the plughole.
I'm bouncing around in my bed when Mummy eventually comes through and stops me.
“Sleep tight Simon.” She kisses my forehead and looks at me like Dad did earlier before turning off the light and closing the door.
I hear George screaming and banging the bars of his cot. Then Mummy's voice. And after ages he settles and Mummy goes to her and Dad's room. I hear the murmurs of them talking but can never make out what they are saying. I pull the duvet up to my throat and stare up at the ceiling. It's only a few minutes before the shadows start moving. They creep out from the corners of the room, slowly at first, like they don't want me to see them. But then I get all tingly and they start swaying back and forth on the walls or swirling around the ceiling, making me dizzy. I was afraid of them at first but they never hurt me and I look forward to them now because I feel warm and nice. I smile at them and they dance for me.
I sit up in bed and watch the criss-cross window shadow spin across my duvet. I put out my arm and turn my fingers around, making it go faster and faster and faster until it breaks apart into short wiggling lines that fly into the corners. I giggle then stop myself in case Mummy and Dad hear me. Sounds like they did as their bedroom door opens and Mummy, I think, comes out. I quickly lie down and stay totally still. The shadows huddle the other side of my bed. But she goes straight into George's room and stays there for a bit before coming back out and into their room again. I suddenly feel angry. This happens all the time. Any noise they hear and it's straight into George's room to check on him. They never check on me. It's not like I scream and shout or get upset like George does, but I miss them worrying about me. They don't seem to care any more.
I feel my right arm is suddenly warm and see a shadow covering it. I smile. The only things that care about me now are the shadows, and they are the only things I care about too.
Sliding out of bed I tip-toe out onto the landing. It's so quiet I can hear the small night light on the wall buzzing. I go into George's room. He's asleep, breathing through a snotty nose and kicking his foot. Mummy has left his toy light on above the cot as always. I turn it off leaving the moon to light the room through the open curtains. I know how the side of the cot slides down and do it without making a sound. As I lift him out and put him on the floor on his belly he wakes up and looks at me. He looks angry. I don't care, I'm the one who's angry. I'm sick of him. Why do they always fuss over him? Why can't Mummy talk to me in bed like she used to? I stand up and I'm shaking. I hate George. Why can't he just go? I feel like crying and I don't know why.
Then I feel a tingle, as if the sun is on my face. I look down and the shadows are wrapped around my arms. And then they move towards George. The shadow of a cot bar wraps itself round his ankle and he starts shaking oddly. He just stares at me, trembling.
“Stop looking at me.” I hadn't meant to speak out loud.
The cot bar shadows move again and curl around his neck. His eyes are wide now and he's still shaking, still looking right at me.
“Stop it!” I start crying. “Stop doing that.”
He's shaking really badly now. The shadow is tight round his neck. His hands start coming off the floor and banging down on it. His head slowly tilts back and he spits a bit. His eyes roll down to stare at me again.
“Stop it! Just go away and stop it!” I scream, and the shadows drag him across the floor, his little hands beating on the carpet. His legs disappear into the side of the cupboard, then his chest and arms until all that's left is a bit of his face, now completely still, like a broken bright doll. Then he's gone.
Mummy comes into the room first. I'm still crying and staring at the side of the cupboard. She asks me what I'm doing out of bed then turns the light on. The shadows quickly leave. I feel cold. Then she says, “Where's George?”. Then she asks me where he is. I just sob. She is moving furniture when Dad comes in wondering what's going on. Tears ar
e running down her face as she says George has gone. They both look at me and Mummy gets onto her knees, grabs my shoulders and shakes me. She asks over and over again where is George, what have I done with him.
“I haven't done anything.” I say “The shadows took him.”
“What can the police do?” screams Mummy. I can only hear parts of what they say as I sit at my desk by my bed. It's morning now. From the window I can see the house makes a big flat shadow going out the back garden and up the hill.
“...only way then." says Dad. "If they can't help then (mumble). Do you still have the number?” I think Mummy starts crying again.
I should have gone to school today and Dad should have gone to work too. But he's downstairs and I've been told to stay in my room, so I decide to do a drawing of the house for them. I like doing drawings, but they don't look at them any more. Maybe they will now George has gone. As I'm doing the sky they answer the door to someone.
“Thank you for coming so quickly. We didn't know what else...” A man mutters something in a really low voice – not Dad – and they let him in. He feels big, the shadows downstairs are squeezed around him. I hear them making tea but not what they are saying. It must be the police about George going missing but Mummy's right, I don't know what they could do either.
I finish the house by doing a puff of smoke coming out of the chimney. Dad will see the funny side of that 'cos we have gas. I drew the flowers in the front garden for Mummy. I always used to help her water them.
I hear more bits of what they are saying as I come down the stairs. The sun at the front of the house makes funny long door shadows across the carpet and down the hall to the kitchen where I see Dad sitting and the back of a man in a suit.
“I don't pretend to understand at all...” Dad sees me at the front door and Mummy looks round the large shoulder of the suit man.
“Simon.”, Dad smiles oddly. “We've got... there's someone here to see you.”
“I did a drawing of our house...” I walk towards them.
“That's ... lovely.”
“...with the flowers I helped Mummy water and the chimney.” I hold it out in front of me as I reach the doorway and smile.
“Simon.”
Neither of them looks at me much. I had almost forgotten about the suit man until I hear a zip go. I pull the picture to my chest. The man has a small black square bag in his hands and is pulling a zip all the way around it. He has lots of wrinkles. They look like he's had them all his life and go all across his face.
“Hello there Simon.” He smiles and all the wrinkles smile.
Something metal clinks in the bag and Mummy puts her hand up to her mouth.
“I've done a picture for Mummy and Dad.” I say to make sure he knows it's not for him.
“That's very good. Now Simon, my name is Matthew. I've been talking to your parents...”
“I don't know where George has gone.” I try not to shout.
“That's all right, I know you don't. You can't possibly know. But that's really all right.” The sound of his deep voice makes me sleepy. I see something silver and round come out of his bag.
“Now Simon, he's a friend of ours...”, Dad gives me that odd smile again and I hear the edges of my picture crunch in my hands. The silver thing goes click and I see some shiny white stuff inside some glass. I hear the shadows screaming at me.
“Simon”, says the suit man, “your Mummy, Daddy and I have agreed that we all need some time apart right now. We need to find your little brother George and we can't do that while you're here. It's too dangerous for you.”
Faster than I notice he's suddenly standing up and I back down the hall. My breath is heavy through my nose and I crunch up the drawing even more.
“I drew them a house!”
“I can't do this...”, Mummy shakes her head and walks backwards from Dad.
My legs start to tremble and I knock something on the hall table with my elbow that clatters. The suit man fills the doorway.
“It's all right Simon. We've agreed it's for the best.”
“NO!” I jump as my back touches the front door. I turn and try the handle. It's locked. The key is always in the lock, but it's not there. I crouch down and start crying as he comes towards me. I feel a bit sicky.
“Don't be afraid, it's all right...”
I wish he'd stop saying that. It's not. I did a drawing for Mummy and Dad and they didn't look at it and now they're saying this man can take me away. Nothing is all right. They don't care. They just pretend to, when all they care about is George. Why do they still care about him? He isn't even here now. I wish they all weren't here.
I suddenly feel warm, as if the sun was on me, and my face tingles. I drop the picture and stand up. The suit man says something but I can't make it out, it's all watery mumbles. The thin glass window of the door is right behind me and my shadow is in front of me. The suit man has the silver thing in front of him and starts to bend down.
“Go away.”, I say.
And he does. All his wrinkles freeze and my shadow covers him from head to toe and then he's gone into the floor.
“Oh God!” Dad gets up, knocking the chair over. Mummy turns round and looks all the way down the hall.
“Where...?”
“Just... Helen, just go.” Dad pushes her towards the back door, trying to stand between me and her. I start to walk down the hall, dragging the shadows with me.
“Why don't you want me here Mummy? George has gone now, why don't you want me?” Mummy screams, she's making a lot of noise with the keys in the lock.
“It's not that we don't... Helen come on... the man, he... he just” Dad's arms wave around.
The door opens. Mummy screams Dad's name and they almost fall out into the garden. I close my eyes and can feel the shadows hugging me from inside. I don't care that Mummy and Dad don't want me now, the shadows saved me from that man, the shadows want me. Mummy cries out and I open my eyes. I walk through the kitchen and out the back door.
They are running up the hill now, the back gate shaking angrily as it bounces closed. But they can't run. My arms tingle and I lift them up, pushing the house shadow up the hill behind them. Dad screams something at Mummy, but I make the chimney shadow trip her up. She rolls onto her back. Her eyes are wide and she tries to scream but makes no sound as she goes black and flat and disappears into the grass. Dad's crying, “No, no...”, as he runs away, but the tree shadow catches up with him. The branch shadows lift him into the air by his ankle, before covering him and cutting him into shivering black ribbons.
It's finally quiet.
No suit man. No George. No Mummy and Dad. Just me and the shadows.