Inconsistency

Inconsistency
Wine. The most sophisticated of drinks. The acrid taste of the blood red liquor warmed the small group. They rolled the drink along the buds of their tongues experimentally, savoring the taste. The room was poorly lit; the light from the window was filtered and lit only the dust circulating in the stuffy room. The heavy, crimson and gold embroidered rug on the ground was Persian, the paintings framed in mahogany were French, and the wine, the wine of course was Italian. They sat on plush couches from Australia, dressed in finely pressed suits with thin, white pinstripes, or rosy red dresses and ermine furs draped across slim necks. Pearls lined the collars of the women and dotted their ears. Large rings of amethyst and emerald and rubies decorated the fingers of the men. A dull chandelier loomed above, hanging to the domed ceiling by a gilded thread. A thin layer of dust coated even this. Black marble pillars rose from the floor, a translucent substance, not quite glass, but close. And, standing on granite platforms between each pillar was a different statue. The modern works favored Calder and stood close to the large set of doors at the front of the room. The older the statue was, the further down the walls they stood. The room was a quarry of differing stones, set in a cool gray and black color scheme. The walls were a greenish gray, but were shadowy in the awful lighting. The room did only have one window that was dwarfed by the large walls near the back of the expansive room, and that was normally clouded with dust and grime, or the curtains were drawn in. Today, only one of the sheer red curtains was drawn in, and only the particles of dust on the left, open side were illuminated, meandering through the dank, musty air of the room. Of the entire home. The people sitting on the chairs either didn't mind the dark and the unkempt home, or the stagnant, heavy air, or, they'd become too accustomed to it to be bothered. On the side of one of the aforementioned couches upon which the guests sat, there was a small table. Light fell upon the edges of this small table. And on the crystal glass of wine that sat on that table. The light, however, seemed to glint on the surface of the delicate hand that reached for the stem of the glass. The hand was transparent and shone dully in the dirty light. The hand seemed to glide through the air, disrupting the vision of anyone staring at the glass. This was the only indication of its existence, for the hand cast no shadow. Taking the glass in a delicate, ladylike manner, the hand retracted back into the shadows, as quietly as it came. There were the tinkles of laughter and the clink of glasses and bottles. Talk was plenty, and those present seemed to enjoy themselves. They spoke of trivialities on the outside of the solid walls, the people and the places, the laws and the wars, life, etc. There weren't any business related issues, as far as they were concerned. They had eyes and ears in every nook and cranny to alert them of any trouble. But in the midst of merriment, dark things were weeping; shapeless, voiceless things.
                          *****
Separation
The man scoured over numerous books and pamphlets of various lengths. His shadow was large in the candlelight, but shrunk with the yellowish wax. With its height, the shadow could peer over the man's shoulder and see the ancient texts whose yellowed pages and obscure penmanship eluded its comprehension of the humans' language. It tried to make out the poor calligraphy and secret codes, or at least listen to its master's mutterings, but it was to no avail. After a few long hours of watching its master read, it grew bored. That's when the man sat up and began to disrobe. The shadow had seen its master nude before; he'd been with him since birth, but this was different. He would never remove his clothes with such haste, or for no reason. There didn't seem to be a reason now, especially in the cold, damp air of his study. His bare feet touched the stone floor of the rounded room, but he soon stepped over to the large round carpet that lay in the center of the room. He motioned in the direction of his shadow. It obliged; not that it had any choice. The man stepped over to his desk to blow out the candles near the books. In utter darkness, the shadow had free reign. It explored the nooks and crannies of the study, making it small and thin to fit the shadows inside the spines of his master’s books, slithering into the cracks of the walls. It couldn't see its master. It couldn't hear its master, so, for the moment, it was its own master. The man stepped silently, walking on the balls of his feet, ever careful to make no noise. He gently turned the door to the study, and it made not a sound. Only the whisper of air as he swung it open and the swish of the insulating padding under the door on the hard ground. The halls beyond were dark and shadowy. The man stepped onto the cold floor; his shadow was in its own world of freedom. He made a quick step forward, and simultaneously slammed the door while flipping on the brilliant lights of the hallway.
The shadow hardly had time for confusion before it was torn from its master. It had a moment of hysteria, trying to find its way back to its human, but settled itself and had a good think. The human abandoned him. It really didn't care any for his company, nor was it interested in the confinement of being attached to a human. The shadow did what it thought was the most obvious choice, and slid through the slight cracks in the wall until it reached the cool night outside. The man pushed his thin, temple-less glasses up his equally thin nose. He looked about himself. Not a shadow in sight. He noted that there were no regenerative effects of separation. That made things too simple. He glanced at the padding beneath his door. That must've been what kept the shadow in. He noticed that it could escape via the keyhole, or by a crack in the wall or door. It seemed that the shadow had no intention of reuniting with him. That bothered the man not a bit, not after what he'd learned of shadow-less people. However, it would be a useful thing to have a shadow close at hand. He dismissed the thought and returned to his quarters where a change of clothes and rest lay.
The shadow stuck to the stone walls of its master’s home for a moment, speculating whether or not to return to him. It slid down the wall, a dark, fluid streak bumping over ivy in a serpentine motion. Then it touched the grass. Of course, it couldn’t feel the grass, just like it couldn’t feel the chill of the night and the damp wall, just like it couldn’t feel the ridges and bumps of the ground. It merely conformed itself to the soil, sliding along the tall grasses like a garter snake. It wasn’t entirely sure what to do with its newfound freedom, but it slithered on nonetheless, thankful for the moon’s glow. The moon, with its shadow so large, was only appearing in pieces until it showed itself in its entirety. Only to wane again, regenerating every month. The shadow didn’t think too often—there was no reason to—but looking at the moon, he wondered what its shadow thought of the world below. There was, after all, no door to slam it free. Did it think the shadows on Earth were all free? Thinking was becoming harder for the shadow, so it stopped, only bothering to keep moving. It was up trees, crawling as nimbly as a squirrel up the bark, sliding down vertically, swiftly, on the ground again in moments. It didn’t stop until the spires of its master’s decrepit mansion were lost in the green of the leaves. The moon was sliding down from its perch in the sky. The shadow had slid through thick forest and thorny briars and draped itself in trees much like one of Dali’s clocks.  It wondered briefly why its master would live in such an old, gaudy home. Why he would encase himself in such an old crypt, where time was seemingly nonexistent. Why, when just a few hours away, were buildings of light that scraped the sky? Things the shadow had only seen once. But that was a dark, dreary day. And though the sky was stormy and gray, and though the wind was moaning, the buildings it saw were not lit. It thought of them as giant candles, lighting the darkness and giving a shadow just enough space to make it feel liberated. But its master refused to see the candles lit. He sat in the dark, formidable car with the tinted windows. He stood in the thin, pale grasses by the stone and wept. He ran his fingers along the engraved words in the stone and wept. He muttered darkly and sighed. Not what the shadow had expected. The night was bright, and the candles never melted; the shadow was transfixed. Only, they were driving away from the towers and buildings. They drove away in the same dark car, and the tinted windows ruined the building’s grandeur. The shadow knew where it wanted to go then. It’d go to the lit place. It doubled its pace and sped across the dirt and grass until it hit the beaten paths that cut through the woods, lined by broad leaved trees. Yet nothing was disturbed on its journey. It would tear through piles of reddening leaves, falling early in the cooling season, but they wouldn’t stir. With unnatural quickness, it took to climbing the trees and latching itself to the shadows of leaves and branches, propelling its way through the canopy. It slid over the furry back over a slumbering squirrel, and wrapped its silky form around a stationary pupa. With a start, it halted at the edge of the forest. It could make out the silhouettes of tiny homes dotting the expanse of green that separated the suburbs from the ancient mansions. The sun was beginning to climb up, lighting the sky and making it a pale blue; the homes became more visible as it slid from the tree. With one swift movement, the shadow was in the short, brown grass and propelling itself forward.
****
Vanna’s Call
“You have a charge.”
“Do I now? Any information on the nature of my job?”
“That isn’t of my concern, Tauno.”
The tall man looked up at the woman standing before him. She was tall, but not thin. She wasn’t a heavy woman, but muscular and thick around the waist. Her lynx fur coat was draped across her shoulders, covering her red suit; underneath she wore a pinkish-white blouse that was frilled at the collar with a red tie. Her long, blonde hair ended in a mass of ringlets at the base of her back. Steely blue eyes peered at him haughtily, her plump, pink lips pursed into a disapproving frown. Tauno himself was wearing nothing but pants woven from animal hides. His skin was a reddish-brown; his eyes were the color of dark chocolate. His hair was straight and black, and ended at the base of his neck.  He was barefoot, but his feet were not worn from the years of his life spent outside. He could hardly feel the earth beneath his feet, anyway. He stood up from where he was laying in the grass. The ground left not a single indication of his being there. No grass was flattened, not a stone was out of place; the ground animals were not perturbed, as if they hadn’t noticed his presence at all. The woman sniffed disdainfully. Though the forest did not account for her either, the closeness of the trees troubled her. “I suggest you answer Vanna’s summons quickly, Tauno. The poor thing wouldn’t want to have to come to you himself.” With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the trees. Tauno sighed and fell to the earth, before seeping into the soil and even deeper, where darker shadows lay. He left silently, brushing the ground but not quite touching it as he skimmed through damp underground tunnels.
Vanna Borski was a frail man, but in his state a person happening on his meeting with Tauno would never notice. He was tall, but thin. His skin was sagging and veiny, and he walked with a pronounced hunch. But to a viewer, he was nothing more than a series of invisible ripples that distorted the scene behind him. Or, if the viewer’s eyes grew accustomed to the dark and shadows that shrouded the building in which the pair stood, he or she would see a floating suit and top hat, along with a cane suspended inches above the ground. Tauno was two dimensional at the time, and merely a slit from the side. But from the front he stood with his hair slicked back and decked out in a plain black blazer and slacks and a button-down shirt. He wore no tie, but decided to wear loafers over his usually bare feet. He waited for Vanna to speak.
“Tauno…I’m glad you’ve arrived so swiftly.” His voice was breezy and gravelly, and it was obvious speaking was becoming a chore.  His raspy inhalations broke Tauno’s stoic demeanor. Vanna was aging, and it pained him.
“What is it that you need?” He asked.
“A shadow…a shadow was recently separated from its master. We believe it to be…purposely in order to achieve the…abilities of a shadow-less man.” Vanna wheezed.
“I take it he resides nearby then. I shall apprehend him quickly.” Tauno said, beginning to turn away.
“The shadow…is your target. He…it has apparently not been…kept carefully enough.”
Tauno sighed; a renegade shadow was bothersome to say the least. One wily enough to become separated from a master able to acquire the methods of a shadow removal would be troublesome indeed.
“So I am to apprehend the shadow and guard it until its owner is identified, correct?” Tauno inquired.
The top hat tilted, then came up again.
With that, Tauno dissipated into the early morning mist.
****
Schwarz
The shadow’s master stifled a yawn and stretched. Morning had come. He was still rubbing the crust from his eyes when he noted a mysterious breeze. He opened one eye and turned his head to the window. A man, a burly one at that, was sitting on the windowsill, elbows on his knees, hands folded like a deck of cards mid-shuffle under his square chin. Olive skin, dark, amused eyes, tousled dark brown hair. “Have a nice rest, sleeping beauty?” The man froze mid-stretch. With slow, calculated movements, he grabbed for the nearest object he could find. His hands closed around his thin glasses. He placed them on his nose and sat up stiffly. The olive skinned man stood, hands raised. “Looks like you sleep in style…” He nodded appreciatively at his red silk pajamas. “Now I demand to know why you’ve barged into my home like this.” He said, untangling his cotton sheets from his legs roughly. He stood, spindly arms crossed over his bird-like chest.
“That’s easy…” He began, “You’re shadow’s missing. Look at yourself my friend!” He motioned to the man’s hands.
He never noticed it before, but underneath his red pajamas, his hands were dimming. They still held some color, but it was more like champagne than anything else. Running to a mirror, he stared at his face. His eyes were nearly transparent, only a dull, watery brown color remained. “My shadow…the degenerative effects are enacting…” He paced the room stiffly.
“That’s just right. You were easy enough to find, but as for your shadow…”
“It’d escaped! I never should have granted it such freedom, I should have kept it as tightly secured as possible…”
“How long were you intending to keep the shadow from you?”
“Just until the effects began to show. Only then.” He lied.
The man cocked his head, “Why?”
“That’s not really any of your business, friend. Who are you anyways?”
He held his hands up again, peaceful as ever, “The name’s Schwarz, but that’s really all you need to know. I came here to see whether this was some freak accident or something worse.”
“How did you find me so easily?”
The man called Schwarz grinned, “I’ve got friends everywhere.”
He meant shadows, of course.
“And I’m guessing I have to find and retrieve it.” He said bitterly.
“Yep, it’s why I came here in the first place.”
The man stood still, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. His suspicions were mounting.
“It’s Levi…right?” Schwarz asked casually. He strode across the room, coming closer to him with each step.
“Allard.” Levi said. In his voice was a challenge.
“Good name…now you’re gonna go and find that shadow right?” Schwarz asked.
By now Schwarz were staring at Levi, standing within arm’s reach of  his throat. In his amused eyes, there was a threat looming. Levi’s stare was just as virulent.
“I think I’ve overstayed my welcome. I’ll be off now, and don’t forget about that shadow.” Schwarz grinned viciously, sauntering off to the window.
“I won’t.” Levi replied.
“Good name…” His words echoed in Levi’s head. To no one he replied, “I know.”