The Shadow of Good Intentions

The campfire in front of me threw dancing shadows across the dimly lit ground. A long, gangly shadow staggered its way around it. As if on patrol, surveying the fire from all angles. Passing in front of my unused tent, I saw that it was all angles and long limbs. Gangly and skinny. Its neck was just too long for the thin frame that supported it, as if it would collapse at any moment under its own weight.

Its movements were jittery and hard to follow. Like flicking through a row of pictures, all take in sequence. They’re meant to be connected, but each missing a piece of the one before and refusing to support the one that followed. It was nauseating, unnatural to look at in motion. The shadow made its way back around the campfire, out of my sight, and settled behind me. Glancing back, it no longer jittered, only mirrored my actions thrown by the fire I sat in front of. Hours passed as I refused to sleep until finally the fire guttered out. Leaving only embers drifting into the sky above it. Still, the shadow remained. Looking behind itself as I looked over my own shoulder, mocking my every move. I moved to my tent, content in its safety and protection.

My long, thin limbs complained as I rose from the ground. And I rolled my neck about, trying to push the cold and weariness from my bones. All angles and long limbs, I collapsed the tent and continued my journey North. Many days had gone by, all in the same way. Avoiding passers-by, keeping my head down and hoping none of them noticed the dim shadow that persisted regardless of light.

Until I heard a mewling. The gentle, innocent cry of a child lying on the road. It was wrapped in cloth, and I could see no one on the road. No one in the brush or forest nearby, no eyes peering out at me. The baby had blue eyes, watery and full of confusion. Tears stained its cheeks. I felt the cold over one shoulder, my shadow stood there. Haunting me, bony and ethereal hands outstretched, reaching for it. I pulled away and it looked at me. I could not see its features but the air grew cold and I knew it was angry. I ignored it, trying to gently feed the child some water. I had nothing but hard rations, but the next town was not far. I could leave it there; someone would be able to take care of it. Hours passed on the road and I dreaded the night more this time.

I set my tent up again, with the child in my lap. It hadn’t cried in hours, only looking at me with the most curious expression. As if it didn’t understand me. My long neck and thin face, gangly limbs, perhaps something new to it. The shadow didn’t come any closer, it sat across from me. And when I added sparks to the assembled kindling, it grew in clarity. The light shone against it, solidifying it almost against the dirt. It didn’t move for hours. It just stared at me and at the child who had fallen asleep shortly after the fire was lit.

The shadow turned to look into the darkness, back towards the road. Its jittering movements made my stomach turn after such a long period of calm. There was a shuffling sound and an old man emerged into the light. He looked like a vagabond, hooded and cloaked. His clothes looked well-made but also well-travelled. He looked at me and at my shadow, his eyes settled back on me. He smiled, warm and comforting. Fatherly.

And then he asked for the child. In the silence that followed, he offered that he would also take my shadow. Steal the haunting thing from my life and keep it away from me. In return, he wanted the child. My shadow reacted before I did, aggressive. It was up and moving, flickering and vibrating in the firelight. It was afraid too, I could see it.

The old man didn’t seem to mind it as it circled him, shadowed hands stretching out to caress the old man’s shadow. And then my shadow recoiled, pulled back, and returned to its position opposite me. Though it did remain standing.

“Why do you want the child?” I asked. It was all I could really say, what else was I supposed to say to an offer like that? I would be lying to say that I didn’t consider it. I didn’t know how to take care of a child. I didn’t want to have to deal with my shadow, haunting my every step.

He shrugged, “I have my reasons and could give you any number of reassurances. I only say that the child will not be harmed. And that I offer to relieve you of two burdens, at the cost of simply giving one up.”

I looked down at the little face in my lap. Swaddled badly, as the cloth had come slightly undone. I didn’t know how to rebind it. It looked so peaceful. I couldn’t give it up, couldn’t risk whatever he had in store. At least I could keep it safe for now, until I reached the town.

I shook my head. Told him no. He shrugged again and gave another smile, though this one was tinged with sadness.

“Very well then, my boy. Enjoy your night.” And then he left, disappearing into the dark and out of sight.

His face stayed in my mind for the night, until sleep once again threatened my eyes. My shadow hadn’t moved in hours, its head locked in the direction of where the old man once stood. I picked myself up and withdrew to the tent. It would need the warmth. There I lay, cradling the child and hoping I could keep it warm till morning.

And then I saw it again. Long, gangly limbs and a neck that’s just too long for the frame that followed. It approached the tent and paused, it lingered. Flickering while standing still. It crept towards the tent’s flap, and all warmth left my body as its hand pushed inside, suddenly solid. Its fingers tested themselves against the fabric, leaving dark and ink-like stains on it. It made a sound, an awful gurgling sound. And then it grasped the flap and pulled it aside. It had a face now.

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