Without Dark Places

The whispers had started and that could only mean one thing. People had finally noticed. Jonathan knew that the noises weren’t the normal background fuzz of the subway. These were the whispers of people talking, talking about him. Jonathan had made it nearly the whole ride and here it was, only two stops from his destination and he could feel the attention of the subway car turn his way.
Jonathan pulled his hood closer around his head and slouched even farther against the wall. The whispers continued, growing louder as people brought their attention to Jonathan. It was an early morning ride time and people were packed shoulder to shoulder. The mass of humanity pressed into the car had a momentum of its own. People started to sway towards Jonathan as those in the back pushed forward to catch a glimpse.
“Pitch Black!!! He’s Pitch Black.”
The words dug straight into Jonathan. The whispers became louder; the swaying movement took a violent turn as those closest to Jonathan tried unsuccessfully to back away. Jonathan stood, sending ripples through the crowd. The pushing stopped, the crowd shrinking from him as he moved toward the door. It seemed to Jonathan that time had been frozen, as the people on the train had become perfectly still, watching Jonathan. The door opened and Jonathan shot out of the train.
“MIND THE GAP”, a loudspeaker warned.
He raced up the steps, desperate to get to the surface. It was too late to escape further notice, he knew. Two shadows had detached themselves from their people and were racing along side of him. There could be no greater proclamation, because every other shadow they touched instantly conveyed the message to their people. This boy had no shadow.
Words spread fast via shadow. Even now racing towards the surface, the two man shaped apparitions dogged his steps, passing the word through every dark place. Jonathan turned down the last hallway, the bright lights enough to send his unwanted followers scurrying to find their people.
Up ahead a police officer stood in conversation with a short, squat man. The man gestured wildly in Jonathan’s direction. Behind the man his shadow was equally animated, it grew to great heights and quickly shrunk, as the man became more agitated. There could only be one thing that they could be discussing. Jonathan saw the exit up ahead. He picked up his pace, he was practically running, ahead sunlight shown through the door. If I can just get outside, he thought.
“Hey, you there, STOP,” came a voice up ahead and to his right. The police officer had finally taken notice and moved to intercept Jonathan.
There was no way that the police officer could catch Jonathan. Jonathan knew that he was to far ahead and had too much speed. The officer’s shadow placed itself on the floor in front of him, hands outstretched, Jonathan never slowed, his Nike’s treading a path right across the shadow of the police officer. A muffled shout sounded behind him, and Jonathan risked a glance back. The officer had fallen to knees; he clutched his chest, right where Jonathan had stepped on his shadow. Touching another person’s shadow was a huge taboo. Jonathan knew that stepping on the police officer’s shadow had been the equivalent to punching the officer in the chest.
Jonathan didn’t feel to sorry for the police officer. His shadow had purposely placed itself in Jonathan’s way. Shadows weren’t dumb.
Jonathan jumped a turnstile and found himself outside. He’d gotten off the train early and was still three blocks from his destination. It was still well before noon, and the sun was bright and the sky was clear. One of those days when you and your shadow could frolic outside and never lose each other. Jonathan felt an aching loneliness where his shadow should have been.
Sooner than expected the building that Jonathan was looking for came into view. It was an old, thin row house, two stories and very narrow. The house sat on a tree-lined street, which was currently empty of people. Five steps led up to a landing where a sign proclaimed:

Dr. E. Leo Baumgarde, M.D.
Shadow Therapist

Jonathan took the steps in one leap, grabbed the door handle and slammed into the locked door. Righting himself, Jonathan noticed a small doorbell. He glanced around, at the still empty streets. Quickly, he rang the doorbell.
The door swung open and a small, elderly woman greeted Jonathan. She smiled and ushered Jonathan into the house.
“The door is always locked,” she said. “There are a lot of people afraid of the work we do here.” Her shadow nodded agreement, and then raced around the corner. It returned almost instantaneously. “The doctor will see you right way, Jonathan.” It wouldn’t occur to Jonathan till much later on that he had never told the receptionist his name.
Jonathan was still catching his breath as he moved into the small office. The room was dominated by a large desk, two chairs sat in front of the desk, while the wall behind was lined with built in bookcases. Behind the desk sat Dr. Baumgarde.
“Please, come in and have a seat,” he said gesturing to chairs. “It looks like you had quite a time getting here.” Dr. Baumgarde was middle-aged, bald on top, yet he wore a beard that had turned mostly grey. Wired-rimmed glasses were perched atop his nose. He wore a bowtie and Jonathan couldn’t help but notice that he smelled slightly of mint. His shadow stood behind him, arms crossed.
“I lost my shadow,” Jonathan blurted out, as he slid into the chair.
“I can see that,” Dr. Baumgarde answered. His voice was calm and it instilled a relaxing feeling, almost like listening to water lap upon a beach. “However, I think that lost may no be the correct term. Lost implies misplaced, I tend to think that you did not misplace your shadow.” Behind him the doctor’s shadow slowly shook it’s head.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning?”
Jonathan took a deep breath. This would be the hardest part. Admitting how he came to be without his shadow. Different emotions: shame…anger…humiliation all came to the surface. But they were nothing compared to deep loneliness and longing that Jonathan felt. To be without a shadow!! Jonathan felt the beginnings of tears well up.
“I woke up this morning and he was gone. I couldn’t find him, I knew it wasn’t a game. I looked in some of his normal places, but it was different, he just felt…gone.”
“We have a very real connection to our shadows, if he was gone, truly gone, then you would know,” Dr. Baumgarde said. “So why might he have left?”
“Well….we had a fight last night.”
“You argued with your shadow. Those things happen when two beings are so connected. You think this argument is why he left?”
“Yeah, I do. He was mad. I could feel the anger coming from him. I just couldn’t understand why he was so upset.” Jonathan hesitated; slowly he adjusted himself in the chair. “It was stupid.” Jonathan felt a little better. Being able to tell someone about what had happened seemed to lift a weight from him.
“What did you fight over?” asked Dr. Baumgarde, he leaned forward resting both elbows on his desk.
“He is…well…he is afraid of the dark.” There it was. His shadow was afraid of the dark. This was the first time Jonathan could ever remember saying it out loud. “Who ever heard of a shadow being afraid of the dark? I mean, they are dark. Aren’t shadows, by their very nature, a lack of light?” Jonathan moved to the edge of the chair, his hands becoming animated as he spoke. “I tried to talk to him about it at first. I wanted to understand, to help, but it was just so unreasonable. At seventeen who wants to sleep with a nite light on?”
The Doctor leaned back in his chair, bringing his hands together. He stared Jonathan for a moment. “Have you ever considered what it is like for a shadow to be in the dark?” Dr. Baumgarde leaned forward as he spoke. Behind him his shadow grew to enormous proportions, filling the whole of the wall behind the Doctor. The lights in the room dimmed as the shadow expanded.
“No, I haven’t,” Jonathan answered, shrinking into his chair. Dr. Baumgarde’s shadow filled the room. “I…I just thought a shadow would be ok with the dark.”
“Of course you did,” Dr. Baumgarde said. He leaned back in his chair, and his shadow receded. “If you think about it, how comfortable could being in the dark be for a shadow? Our shadows filter in and out of the dark all day. They detach themselves, interact with other shadows, mimic and reflect our emotions. Changes in light affect them. On cloudy days shadows become, excuse my phrasing, but mere shadows of themselves. All day every day our shadows are with us. But at night we forget them. We turn out the lights and don’t think about them. But when we turn out the lights our shadows aren’t gone, they are merely hidden. So what does a shadow think about in the dark? It has to be awfully lonely.”
Jonathan leaned back in his chair. He had never given much thought as to what happens to shadows when the lights go off. It made sense that his shadow would not want to be in the dark. The lights being turned off would be like having an off switch. It would be as if you suddenly ceased to exist. For a human it must be like being in a large group where everyone was the same, and nobody cared or wanted to be different. Oh, it must be horrible to see night approaching knowing that dark loneliness was coming, Jonathan thought. His shadow didn’t want the lights left on because he was afraid of the dark, but because of how the dark made him feel. He was afraid of being nothing. Jonathan faced the same fears and loneliness, but it would take more than turning the lights on fix that. Face his fears he could, but first he needed his shadow back.
A smile appeared on the doctor’s face. “I see that you are beginning to understand,” he said. The doctor’s shadow leaned and made contact with Dr. Baumgarde. The doctor closed his eyes for brief second. “I think everything is going to be fine.”
Jonathan looked up at that. “What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say that I have it on good authority that your shadow might be willing to forgive you.”
“Really?” Jonathan sputtered. He stood and spun around looking for his shadow. “He is here isn’t he,” Jonathan asked, directing his question to the doctor’s shadow. “I understand now, please come back, I…I miss you.” A tear slowly slid down Jonathan’s cheek.
A loud crash interrupted Jonathan. Muffled voices could be heard outside the door. There seemed to be shouting, followed be another loud crash. The doctor’s shadow slid under the door and returned after a few seconds. He leaned in towards the doctor.
“It seems we have visitors,” Dr. Baumgarde said. “You will have to leave out the back.”
Jonathan glanced at the door. Muffled voices could still be heard. “What is going on?”
Dr. Baumgarde moved towards the office door. His shadow walked behind, all puffed up, looking very aggressive, much in opposite to the small bearded man who walked in front.
“My business has a tendency to attract a lot of the wrong attention. People have always been afraid of what they don’t understand. The loss of a shadow, or a shadow that has independent thought, is not the horrifying thing that people perceive it to be. Shadows have minds of their own, a personality. Most shadows are so similar to their people that there are no problems. In some cases shadows and their people don’t always mesh perfectly. That is where I come in. I help to reconcile a shadow to their person or vice versa. Some people have a hard time with that, they can’t except that people who are different are still people.”
The doctor opened the office door and ushered Jonathan out into the hallway. The reception area stood off the to right. Jonathan could see the receptionist leaning against her desk arms folded. She looked as if she had just eaten a lemon. Her shadow raced around the room, gesturing wildly at the front door. Shouts from outside could be heard more clearly.
The doctor turned left, his shadow lagged behind. “The people outside don’t understand your work?” Jonathan asked as they moved down the hallway.
“The people currently outside are little different. They see shadows as a tool to be controlled, used, and anyone without a shadow becomes less than human,” Dr. Baumgarde answered.
“Anti-Shadites.” Jonathan said shaking his head. They had stopped at a door, the doctors shadow slipping underneath. “I was called a Pitch Black on my way here.”
“Pitch Black is such a stupid term,” Dr. Baumgarde explained. “We all know that when it is pitch black you have no shadow, but to use it as a derogatory term for someone who has lost their shadow? Please, I mean can you see someone sitting on their porch trying to think up a name for someone without a shadow and pitch black is all they can come up with, how sad. It doesn’t bode well for the movement if that is the best their brain trust can do.”
Dr. Baumgartner’s shadow returned and an exchange took place between doctor and shadow. “I think things will be ok. Remember your shadow is part of you, don’t take it for granted because it is always there.” Dr. Baumgarde extended his hand.
“Thank you, Dr. Baumgarde,” Jonathan said. “I am beginning to understand what my shadow must go through at night, I just want him back.” Jonathan took Dr. Baumgarde’s hand and shook. The doctor’s shadow appeared on the wall beside them, and patted them both on the back. Jonathan felt a slight tingle where he was touched by Dr. Baumgarde’s shadow. He smiled at the freely given touch of another person’s shadow.
“Right, this door opens into an alley. Go to the left. That will take you to Rosy Lane; there is a subway terminal. You should be fine.”
“When will my shadow come back?” Jonathan asked.
“I’m not sure he ever really left,” answered the Doctor.
Jonathan stepped out of the door. There was a soft click as the door closed behind him. He found himself in an alley that opened on both ends. Shouts could be heard coming from the right opening, so following Dr. Baumgarde’s direction Jonathan turned left. Up ahead the alley opened into a busy street. Jonathan couldn’t help but notice that the alley was well lit from the overhead Sun. It must be nearly noon, Jonathan thought.
“Going somewhere Pitch Black?” The voice came from behind Jonathan. Two shadows appeared on either side of him. Turning slowly Jonathan followed the dark lines of the shadows back to their owners. Three boys faced him. They were roughly his age, somewhere in their teens. It was useless to run, the alley opening was to far away. Jonathan knew this was about to get bad.
Jonathan spread his hands in front of him and took a step towards the boys. Their shadows spread out along the alley walls, growing large, making the alley seem dark and menacing.
“Listen, this isn’t you think….”, Jonathan said.
The sun was almost directly overhead. Jonathan could tell from his position flat on his back. Something warm spilled down his cheek as Jonathan fought tears. He sat up and reached for his face.
“I am fairly sure this is exactly what we think. You shadowless runt.”
The next few blows were made all the more painful because Jonathan could see them coming. He tried desperately to protect his vulnerable parts, having never quite realized how many vulnerable parts one body had. The boy’s shadows danced an eerie sort of jig with each falling punch.
There was a low grunt of pain as the beating stopped. Jonathan opened his eyes, light followed by pain flooded to his mind. One of the boys who had been beating him lay on the ground clutching his stomach, tears flowed from his eyes, and a dark shape lay in a pool in front of him. The other two boys ran down the alley yelling. Then Jonathan noticed the wall.
A shadow fought against two others. Their bodies melded together and became intertwined. The movement looked like nothing Jonathan had seen before. It was a savage and violent dance, played out on an alley wall for all to see. Jonathan knew his shadow. He had come for him. The boy’s shadows were overwhelmed by the furiousness. They took wild swings to no avail, as Jonathan’s shadow seemed to rip chunks of darkness from them. Jonathan knew that each blow that his shadow landed caused pain to the boy’s who had run around the corner. The boy’s shadows broke away and raced to the alley end. Jonathan’s shadow raised two dark arms over his head, then slowly turned to face Jonathan.
There were no words. Jonathan reached out and touched his dark companion. He felt whole again as his shadow once again attached itself to him, as if a missing piece had been put back. The emptiness and loneliness that had followed Jonathan all morning were forgotten. His shadow had returned.
“What is going on here?”
The voice was older. Jonathan looked up into the face of a bald middle-aged man. He was short, with a red beard. He had a fair complexion that almost blended with his white button down shirt. Black suspenders connected to black pants. His eyes were the coldest green that Jonathan had ever seen. He was scowling, Jonathan was sure that this was a regular look, and not specifically in response to the current circumstances.
The two boys had returned and were helping the third to his feet. As they helped the third boy up the dark pool at his feet resolved itself into a vaguely man-shaped shadow. Jonathan wondered at the violence that his own shadow had inflicted on the boy.
“He is a Pitch Black and his shadow attacked us,” one of the boys said.
“A pitch black with an attacking shadow, that makes a lot of sense.” Jonathan’s voice dripped sarcasm as he slowly rose to his feet. “Do I look like I lost my shadow?” His shadow was on the ground facing the growing crowd arms open wide.
“But your shadow attacked them.” There was no understanding in the man, just those cold green eyes.
“Of course he did,” Jonathan, snapped, “I walked outside and got jumped. What would your shadow do?” Jonathan stood tall. He gave a quick scan of the crowd and knew that he wasn’t going to find many friends there.
“We were watching the doctor’s door like you said,” one of the boys said addressing the green-eyed man. “He came out and his shadow wasn’t with him.”
“Is this true?”
“My shadow is right here.” Jonathan pointed and his shadow spun from the ground, growing to the top of the building. He leaned over the crowd causing their shadows to dwindle, and as quickly retreated to Jonathan side.
“I’m not concerned about your shadow, but more with the company you keep. There are certain people who don’t understand what it means to live a whole life.” The man snapped his finger and his shadow danced a jig on the ground in front of Jonathan.
“Your ignorance is outstanding.” A low murmur broke from amongst the crowd. Jonathan knew it was probably the wrong thing to say almost as soon as he opened his mouth, but enough was enough. He had his shadow back and he was not about to be bullied for reasons he vaguely understood. He would never let his shadow go or treat him like a toy.
A cold, cheerless smile crept across the face of the man.
“I think you have some misconceptions, but it sounds like it is time to go, so I will have to enlighten you at a later date. We will see each other again.” Those cold green eyes made the statement a promise. Jonathan couldn’t help but take a step backwards.
A siren was growing closer. The man turned, the crowd split and he walked through. His shadow followed doggedly behind. The crowd turned and filtered out of the alley.
There were many things that Jonathan wanted to say to the man, but he didn’t. His shadow tugged at him. They both turned and ran the other way.

Word Count: 3,486