The
Shadow
In the middle of
class, as the teacher droned on about the intricacies of Longfellow
and Holmes, Harold spotted, nestled in the corner of the classroom, a
dark shadow that belonged to no one. It dripped darkness, standing
out from the fluorescent lights that hung from the ceiling , and it
had a single hand in a non-existent waistcoat. The shadow wasn't
very tall, standing below 5'10, and it didn't have any eyes or
mouth.
It was
exceptionally hard for Harold to concentrate on the meager stanzas of
Oliver Wendell Holmes, while the rest of the class had checked out
long before the teacher started the recording of Old
Ironsides.
Harold chose to ignore the dark figure, seeing it as a figment of his
imagination. He just sat in his desk, looking into the infinity while
not listening to the poem, and he watched outside as rain pattered
gently against the clear windows.
The
recording said "The harpies
of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea!" and
as it said that a crack of thunder rippled across the wind, splitting
the ears of all in the classroom, walking all from their daze. The
students looked outside, to see that lightning had struck a nearby
tree, which for a moment blazed in the gentle rain, before being put
out by it.
"Woah, that was
pretty cool" Said Anna, who gawked with a childlike gaze at the now
burnt and broken tree. She put her head on her hand, looking out to
the rain that pitter-pattered against the now shaken panes of glass.
"The teacher
seems not to have noticed." Harold said. Harold turned around to
look at the other students, but instead saw the shadow was now not in
the corner, but rather standing right behind the final row of desks,
silently standing and staring with his empty face. The monster, hand
still in waistcoat, was staring at the now terrified Harold. Harold
could see clearly that the monster had short hair, brown and a little
unkempt. He had no eyes, and clasped to his pants was a belt that
held a small flintlock pistol, also a shadow of some kind.
Harold looked
away, and when he looked back the shadow was still there, standing
out as a dark and sinister figure against the placid and looming
walls of the classroom. The other kids didn't notice, many of which
had fallen back into their stupor, their grimaced faces and angry
eyes casting a gaze of despair across the room to the teacher. The
shadow sat there, and though it had no eyes or mouth, Harold knew
that it was looking at him.
"Uhhh... Anna,
are you seeing this?" He said. Anna, who was drawing some sort of
picture, turned around and gasped. She saw it too.
"Oh my god, I
didn't notice it before! What is it?" She whispered in fear.
"Quiet! Whats
with all the noise, we're trying to listen to a poem here!" Said
the teacher.
"Teacher, a
shadow beast is in the back of the room! She has long hair, and a
suit of armor on! She has a sword, a freaking sword!" Anna said.
"What? No he
doesn't!" Quietly whispered Harold. "Its not even a girl, and
he has an 18th
century waistcoat on!"
"Both of you,
do I need to call the officer from downstairs?" The teacher said.
And so both quieted, the teacher went back to his nap, and class
continued for the rest of the period. It was two hours long, and only
ten minutes had passed since the beginning of class. The second poem
was on, Because
I Could Not Stop For Death.
"I love this
poem." Anna said, heaving a heavy sigh, staring out too the tapping
rain that rapt against the glass. She and Harold had forgot about the
man who was in the back of the room. The teacher was having trouble
finding the recording he needed, so the students had a moment of free
time, a luxury like no other.
"We have a math
quiz today, by the way." She said.
"What! Another
one?" Harold said in return.
"Yea, I know..."
she said. She had returned to drawing, some picture not completed
yet, but it had contour lines and other lines of other types that
Harold could not, for the life of him, draw or understand. Harold
could never draw.
"I'm already
freaking stressed by school, why the hell do they have to do this to
us?" Harold said.
"Tell me about
it" She mused, while drawing away. She would seamlessly move her
hand, like a ballerina or an ice skater, crafting something from
nothing from the simple led tip of a pencil. Her eyes would dart
across the paper, her long brown hair jerking with every cocked head
and turned neck. She had a white t-shirt on, and a pair of sweatpants
that both fluttered a bit when her body adjusted to make a certain
angle.
"Found it."
Said the teacher, and he played the CD.
Because I
could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; The
carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality
Then, as the
final word of that stanza rung from the CD player, the rain picked up
tremendously. Anna was just silently listening, listening to the poem
as the rain started to assault the school. The water pounded the
glass until you could hear them creaking and groaning against the
strain of mother nature. Harold looked at Anna, who was watching it
now, marveling at the incredible power it held. She had an angry gaze
though, watching with jealousy, at least to Harolds knowledge.
Harold dropped
his pencil, and it rolled along the floor slowly until hitting the
teachers foot.
"Whose pencil
is this?" Said the teacher, in an angry voice. The young man looked
around, his eyes piercing into the soul of anyone he stared at.
"Anna, its
probably you! Or Harold, I don't know and I don't care!"
Shouted the teacher. He shot up, with the speed of a meteorite
crashing into the Ural mountains. Anna, who was still looking at the
rain, suddenly stared at the teacher in disbelief.
"I did it,
sir." Harold said. The teacher then proceeded to call Harold an
ungrateful little swine, and told him to shut up and that he would
not get a pencil the rest of the period. Harold just sat there
fuming, and turned around for a moment.
The shadow was
sitting four or five seats away now. Harold could make out its
shifting skin, black and moving like something was underneath. His
face had contour lines where features would be. Staring at him,
Harold suddenly saw time and space collapse behind the man, revealing
a massive prison. The prison was being assaulted by cannon and shot,
the stone being wiped away by the power of led. Anna was staring to,
and they both suddenly leaped up to tell the teacher.
"Don't
bother." It said, in a deeped, hushed voice.
Suddenly, Harold
was in his chair, his eyes staring ahead. He felt anxiety beneath
him, roaring at his heart. Fear had turned to bitter hate for moment,
and he couldn't control his mind as it made him think of burning
down the school, watching the cinders of his most hated place fly
into the night sky. He felt a smile creep across his lips. He wasn't
flailing, he wasn't acting like a possessed demon child, but he
looked at Anna, who was smiling while she did her drawing. Her eyes
were staring into the infinite. Harold felt his pale hands turn red
with rage, as he imagined those Lucifer teachers being swept into a
pan after turned to ash, and dumped into a fire to be burned once
more, again and again. Then, his vision suddenly collided as
lightning struck the ground with the school burning and the castle
prison burning, and he saw both at the same time, and Anna must have
seen something as well, for both let out an eerie groan of pleasure.
"Can you guys
stop, please, you're freaking me out." The teacher said. The
students had stopped listening to Dickenson, and stared at the two
kids up front. Harold suddenly snapped out of it, and he felt shame
at what he had thought, knowing it to be wrong. The teacher had seen
their stares, and they were staring at the teacher. Their eyes were
low, the smiles of hunters on the prowl who spotted pray on their
faces. The teacher felt fear as he looked.
"S-Sorry."
Said Anna. Then, class resumed, albeit no longer normally. It was
hard to listen to poetry when you were experiencing visons that
defied time and space and seemingly ripped your subconscious desires
and combined them with your thinking mind to create horror and love.
"I-I-I had a
vision." Was all Anna said. "That shadow girl, she had moving
skin, and she said "God is with you child" and then I felt my
soul almost release. All the emotion in me just combined with my
mind, and I felt my hands grow hot with anger. I could see their
bodies, the bodies of all the cheaters, scoundrels, and assholes.
Teacher or not, I felt a sword crush through them. I saw a vision of
a women riding atop a steed, crashing a thousand cavalry into an army
which flew a white flag that had a red cross on it." Harold
recounted his tale as well, and they both were at least afraid
together. It was only one hour into class.
They couldn't
stop thinking about what they had saw. Harold would check behind him
every couple of minutes, just to make sure he hadn't moved. He
didn't, but he still sat where he was. To keep the thing at bay,
Harold had hypothesized that if they didn't think, then it wouldn't
move. So, they ceased thinking about anything but school, just
whatever poem they were on, which was now The
Raven.
"Oh my god, I
love this poem so much!" Anna said. She let her guard down, just
for a moment, her mind slipped into other things. Harold could see
this in her eyes. She had a real smile on her face. And a black,
creeping hand slithering down her back.
The shadow was
right behind them now. It was just sitting there, its shifting face
now seemingly having a place where eyes would usually go. No mouth
place still, though. His hair wafted like a normal persons. The hand
was coming from him, splitting from his torso and trying to find
whatever it was looking for. Then, it stopped. And it waited.
"Do you like
this poem?" Anna asked. Harold just pointed to the shadow, which
looked at Harold. Anna was speechless, and so they concluded not to
look at it.
"What in the
blazing hell are you too doing?!" Shouted the teacher. "I am
quite tired of you two! You may be good at the work and such, but
you're awful people! I swear, if school doesn't model you into
good citizens, then what will? Maybe you should just go home and stay
with your stupid mothers and retarded fathers! Now shut up and listen
to the story!"
A little chuckle
echoed from the shadow.
A throne is
only a bench covered in velvet.
That quote came
from the thing behind them, but could Harold care. He couldn't
believe what the teacher had said. The recording started. While it
was starting up, Harold began to think about the various things he
had in school
I have a quiz
in math.
Once upon a
midnight dreary
I don't
wanna do this... I can't do this.
He felt his hands growing hot. He scowled. He suddenly thought of the
shadow man, but didn't inspect it.
I have a
fucking day and a half don't I. Three tests... Three!
"Tis some
visitor" I muttered "Tapping at my chamber door- Only this and
nothing more"
Im gonna
fuckin loose it.
While he mused
with anger and war in his head, the shadow had crept a tendril down
his back. Anna was suffering from the same problem, and so they both
scowled at their desks.
The teacher was
sitting there, mumbling a song while the poem played, when he saw the
scowls. They gave him chills for some reason, and he couldn't look
away. There was so much passion in such blank, forward stares. Like
the eyes were emoting some long forgotten language, emoting its
anger. The teacher was frozen, looking simply at the torrent of water
that was outside. Lightning struck every couple of minutes, and the
school had become an echo chamber of rain.
I am not gonna
make it, not gonna make it in this class! Harold
heard this thought, and it sounded like Anna's voice, twisted
though into some combination of demon and women.
Anna?
Harold?
Harold, we
should do it. We should show these teachers that we're not kids.
I agree
Really?
The teacher saw
the two staring at each other, when he caught the faint frame of a
darker type sitting behind Harold. He wiped his eyes, and when it was
gone, he thought that he played a trick on himself.
"Take thy
beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the
Raven,
Anna, im gonna
fucking loose my mind if he keeps staring at us!
Harold... I'm
loosing control
"Nevermore."
The teacher was
staring at Anna, when she gripped the desk so hard the wood on it
splinterd. Her hands had become grips from another world, and she
stood up. The teacher noticed a couple other students looked like her
too, and stood up with her.
"I'm so sick
and tired of you, thinking you're so high and god damn mighty,
huh?!" She screamed, her voice becoming a booming echo that sounded
out like a fog horn.
"Wha-What?!"
The teacher spit out, but the kids were now looking at him, nodding
with the girl who stood defiant in front of him.
"We're just
things, for you to toss around?!" She said. Her voice was passion
incarnate, the voice that a thousand demons and angels combine to
make. The class started murmuring in agreement.
The black
creature stood up, his job apparently done, and moved on out the
class room.
"I can feel my
hands crushing that scrawny neck of yours! I can feel my legs burn
with a rage I can no longer contain! I... I... Ahhhh!" She
screamed, and threw her desk, while Harold grabbed the teacher by the
collar. The kids suddenly started tearing into him. His shrieks and
cries were the last echos that filled the school that fateful morn.
The shadow moved on to another class, in some other school, repeating
and repeating, over and over. His form never stayed the same,
changing and shifting to anyone he could find.
He never failed
to cause a stir, and always, always the people he got would organize
protests and riots. He was seen at many, a simple reminder of him
lurking out there. Lurking
Lurking
Lurking.
He
could be in your school.
Your yard.
Your mind.
Your house.
He lurks
He lurks.
Be wary, reader.
He lurks in corners and dark alleyways. Check your kids and see for
yourself. Im sure you'll be surprised.
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