A man and his shadow, inseparable, lost without each other, unable to exist, follow and lead, even in the darkest times, always together.
On a typically bleak English evening for this time of year, a season of change at the dead end of summer, sky full of clouds that burst in spurts, winds whip waves of golden brown leaves, sweeping across the patches of grass outside a group of residential blocks.
About half way up in a flat belonging to Neville, the flickering of light from a TV stabs through the darkness outside like a lighthouse beacon.
Rain taps against the open windows of Nev's council flat in East London. The sound of puddles forming outside is calming as he watches TV, expressionless, almost like he's watched the same thing all day. The coffee table is littered with empty energy drink cans and beer bottles, an ashtray with used tissues surrounded by cigarette butts, chewed up pieces of gum and crisp shavings swept on top. The single mans bubble and squeak.
Nev grabs an almost empty beer bottle and finishes it off with no satisfaction. He drops the bottle to the floor and curls up on the sofa. His attention returned to the TV as he settles in for the night, ready to sleep. With what seemed to be a literal blink of an eye, night turns to day as he is awoken suddenly by a irritating buzzing and rattling against his cheap veneer wood coffee table.
Recklessly reaching for his phone, Nev stops the alarm and in doing so swipes most of the contents off the table. He checks the time, it's 05:30, the time he used to get up and get ready for work. The usual routine of making breakfast, usually cereal, brushing his teeth, showering and putting on a basic shirt and tie combo with little thought or imagination. This is no longer the case as he hasn't been into work for some time and today wasn't going to be any different.
Thumbing away at his lifeless void of a device, Nev goes to his phones call tab. The only calls sent or received are to and from his place of work, a local pet insurance and tracking company where he works in admin, and his Mother, a constant worrier.
He's calling in sick early as he knows nobody is in the office yet and he won't have to explain himself or reason to anyone, and, as expected, his call goes straight to the answer machine. With a rough grumbling voice, naturally occurring having just woke up and not intentionally trying to lay it on thick, Nev casually explains the situation with minimal effort or inclination to hide his I don't give a fuck frame of mind.
I'm not feeling well so I won't be in today, sorry.
And with that Nev hangs up. He gave up trying long ago but has recently sunk deeper into this attitude. With no particular reason or explanation, he finds himself drowning in a puddle of his own vague depression. No cause, no cure.
With the phone in his hand, Nev flops it towards the coffee table. It hits the edge and falls to the floor. Not bothering to pick it up, Nev returns to sleep as another day of nothingness awaits.
It's not until late in the afternoon when the young man does eventually decide to get up. He pats around on the floor, feeling for his phone in the damp crumbs knocked off the table, eventually finding it just beneath the sofa. Checking the time, 13:31, and a couple of missed calls from work and a voicemail. He listens to the voicemail just enough to clear the icon from his phone,
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
..... you can't keep taking days off, and hangs up.
As it's around about lunch time, if he was working, Nev heads to the kitchen to make himself something to eat. Make, meaning, taking a microwave burger from the fridge and warming it up in the microwave. Ready in just two minutes, Nev stands back against the counter watching the timer tick down, staring blankly, lost in emptiness until the 'ding' from the microwave snaps him out of it.
Back into the living room, yesterdays mess still present on the coffee table and body stained outline against the sofa, Nev sits himself down and turns on the TV for another round of daytime boredom.
Would being at work be more fun?
Hours pass with ease and the autumn evening has arrived. Nev continues watching with zero expression or enjoyment, just people watching to pass the time, a carbon copy of yesterday. New empty beer bottles join the old ones, the plate from lunch sleeps beneath the coffee table as there is no room on top, and Nev curls up waiting to fall asleep to the people talking on the TV.
Waking the next day, yet again patting around for his phone and only finds it when sitting up and the damn thing hits the floor.
Did my alarm go off? Did I hear and stop it without realising?
Nev checks the time, 15:51, it's already dark outside and more missed calls and another voicemail from work. He checks the voicemail.
I take it you're not coming in today Nev? You couldn't even be bothered to call in. It's unacceptable and we'll be having words whenever you do decide to come back into work. Actually, You know what mate, let's call it a day shall we. Don't bother calling in sick anymore. All the best for the future.
Nev goes to the kitchen and gets a mug from the lower shelf of the top cupboard. Just above on the higher shelf is a half empty bottle of cheap store brand vodka and he fills the mug to the rim. Wincing at the thought, Nev downs it one, shuddering and bracing himself against the counter top.
He feels alive and sick all at once in a sudden rush. The most he's felt in a while. Trying to shake it off, Nev paces around the kitchen, slapping his face and kicking his legs. He pulls open the cutlery draw, reaches inside and pulls out some scissors. In the cupboard underneath the sink is a small, barely used, vacuum cleaner. Nev unwinds the cord and cuts it at its base. He rapidly and aggressively wraps the cord around his neck, mumbling to himself, wet at the mouth with hyper salivation.
Quick stepping to the living room, hopping on the arm of the sofa and tip toeing to reach the ceiling light just off the centre of the room. Nev whips the loose end of the cord around it, pulling tight and knotting it before slipping off the sofas arm rest and swinging to just above the coffee table, kicking the mostly empty bottles and cans to the floor. Dribbles of beer trickle off the table edge, his feet flutter as if going for a leisurely swim.
The light from the TV screen casts a shadow against the wall behind Nev. The people he watched all day, talking about nothing, now seem to be mocking him, laughing with their forced sadistic smiles.
He starts to slowly spiral, turning away from the TV and to the wall, his silhouette mimicking his ticks.
From his shadow on the wall two different shades of panther like eyes pop open. Nev panics and starts kicking harder, trying to wriggle free and tugging at the vacuum cord above him. Nev spins back towards the TV, eagerly looking over both shoulders whilst shifting his body weight to quickly turn back around to the wall.
The eyes have gone. Nev's kicks settle as does the panic in his struggle, slowly drifting to a sleep like state, he spins back towards the TV and there it is. Jolted once more from his slow strangulation, Nev kicks out and in doing so brings the ceiling light down on top of him with a pop of sparks.
The TV turns off as do all electrical items. In the darkness, crumbled up on the floor and gasping for air, Nev feels something touch him. He screams and backs away in the immediate opposite direction, scrambling on his hands and knees, wildly patting the floor to find his phone, unaware of the layout of the room in the darkness and chaos.
A light from the opposite side of the living room, from his phone, held by a grinning, jet black human shaped and yet distinctively not type creature. The one with the two-tone piercing panther type eyes he saw before.
It stretches its arm out, slowly moving closer as a fearful Nev backs into a corner. The creature, gently lit by the phone screen, palming Nev's phone in a offering, continues to edge further forward with no pace or malice.
The phone light goes out.