Shadow Race
Shadow Race
Shadow Race
By Albatross
"We saw
The shadows of the morning light,
The shadows of the evening sun,
Until the shadows and the lights were one."
". . .Don't dare me now
The threatening shadows will pass by.
They're getting closer now!
Open your eyes!
Wake up, my dear young friend!. . ."
". . .Your time is coming
You've gone insane
You're feeling happy;
You've won the game
Time is coming
A bed of flames
Your life is over
And you're to blame. . ."
Shadow Race
"Hey! Ethan!"
Ethan, who had just clocked out not even a few minutes ago, stopped abruptly in his tracks at the sound of his name. He cast his head towards the ground and squinted his eyes, as if he were wincing in pain. His fingers curled into a loose fist, the end of his dirty chewed fingernails brushed against his dry palm.
"Hey! Wait up!"
Ethan had stopped moving at the sound of his name, and now this guy was telling him to wait up? Did that guy really expect him to start backtracking or something? Was he really so inept? Apparently, this was the sort of annoying guy who would persist even when he's being ignored, and Ethan felt as if he had a good idea who this guy was.
Reluctantly, Ethan turned around.
"Hey, did you just clock in?" The guy asked.
No, he did not just clock in. Normally, a simple no would have sufficed, but Ethan was in no mood to interact with anyone. He just wanted to leave, just wanted to go home, the sooner the better. But no, a basic no would not suffice, not this time. He would
(Leave this guy hangin to dry, Ethan, just leave him to . . . fuckin . . . DRY)
just say 'fuck it' and then leave, and if that annoying guy persisted even more, well, he can have fun talking to himself or fondling his private or whatever annoying guys like him do and Ethan wouldn't give a shit because he'd be. . .
Getting the fuck out of this shitty-ass store, he thought to himself cynically. And besides, if he were to say no, that would invite this guy to lash out with other questions, questions Ethan had no patience for; he wanted to get the fuck out of here.
But on the other hand, if he did say something, maybe that would satisfy this guys idiotic conversational needs and end this now. Considering this, Ethan replied:
"No. Just clocked out." If he sounded cross or rude when he said it, well, that was good. It would make things run a bit smoother and in his favor.
"Cool! Are you going home?" The guy asked cheerfully.
He wanted to say: Of course I am, you dumb shit. Where else would I go? Africa? Moscow? Fuckin Altair-4? He felt his fists tighten, felt the octet of fingernails digging into the pink flesh that were his palms, felt ready to punch this guy's face into new and exciting shapes, for no better reason than the fact that this guy had asked such a stupid question. And what was his name? Henry? Hank? Hell, it could of been Hannah for all he cared. All he knew was that he was fellow Cashier (who had just started recently) here at Mal-Mart, and not one he was particularly fond of either.
Oh . . . that and also that his name began with the letter H.
"Yeah," Ethan replied, expecting Henry, Hank or Hannah to try to maintain what was left of this incoherent, nonsensical conversation (at least, to Ethan), and Ethan would of have no problem shutting it down; he wanted to get the hell out of this stagnant cesspool of mediocrity, and if that meant
(leavin him out to dry)
beating this guy to a point beyond recognition, well then so be it.
So, you're wanting to beat the shit out of this guy just cause he told you hey? Is he really the inept one here, Ethan? Is he really?
Okay, so no, he wouldn't be punching anyone's face in. He just wanted to get home; that was the fuck of it.
"Cool," Henry/Hank/Hannah said, "Well, bye. Have a good one." And then he was off, just like that.
It actually took a moment for Ethan to process what had just occured, as he was so bent on the belief that this guy would be attempting to keep this useless, pathetic conversation afloat (a guy at work, a cart pusher named Jared, would of said, 'he's more screwed than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest'), oblivious to Ethan's obvious frustration. After an extremely infinitesimal moment of consideration, Ethan gladly took off again without giving any more thought to that brief palaver.
He walked out in front of Cash Registers and sported an artificial smile to whoever turned to acknowledge him along the way. A few cashiers looked away from their Cash Registers, sporting toothy grins, and waved at Ethan. He returned the favors, but was muttering some pretty morbid, cynical thoughts in his head as he did so.
He passed by CSM Karen (Jared the Cart Pusher always called her 'Karen the Wonder Hag') as she was counting money at the CSM Podium. She turned and glared at Ethan as he walked by. The sleeves on their shirts brushed as he passed.
Well, fuck you and that red Mustang you rode in on, he mused.
He burst out in a stream of rich laughter and when he craned his neck and saw Karen staring at him with hateful eyes, her mouth distorted in some weird snarl, (he guessed that that was supposed to convey disgust) mouthing or muttering something he couldn't quite decipher. Under the circumstances, he really didn't care anyway.
Ethan walked out into main entrance, and then walked out through the automatic double-doors and immediately embraced a wave of warm, summer air. The sun was high in the sky, but was beginning to curve downwards towards the horizon. It was late afternoon.
He walked along the sidewalk that eventually curved and faded into the beginning of the Associate parking lot. Ethan weaved through the many vechicles until
(voila!)
he saw small dark blue Motor Scooter leaning on its kick-stand.
Ethan mounted and started it up, doing away with the kick-stand and revving it a bit before shifting into gear and then taking off down the parking lot. A gentle breeze blew back thick streaks of his brown hair due to the increased air resistance.
He puttered out of the parking lot and onto Alcoa Blvd. and followed it for about a third of a mile until it curved to the right and ultimately into a four-way intersection. The light was green. Great. That moved things along just nicely.
Ethan put his right blinker on and leaned into the turn. He was now on Holly Street.
He drove on for about two miles, passing vacant buildings, a few small neighborhoods, one of those fast-food hamburger joints called McDonovan's. The second light he passed was green, but the third turned yellow right before he reached the intersection. The Mazda Protege in front him started braking. Ethan found this unacceptable. He sped up, surpassing the speed limit, and made a lane change, not even bothering to use his blinker. The Protege fell behind as he zoomed on through the intersection. A trick of light turned yellow into red. A white light flashed behind him.
Great, he thought. Just fuckin great.
He was about twenty-three miles from home.
The scenery began to dissolve from a city along the coast to a flat, barren land with random patches of trees. Some random teens in a black Charger whizzed passed him blaring rap music and sped off into the distance, leaving a tail of dust.
Idiots.
Ethan drove on for another three miles before the road began to curve towards the left and rise on a hill. He came to a stop sign at another intersection and turned left on Brooke Road. Another twenty miles to go.
The speed limit on this country road was sixty. Ethan was traveling at this speed, more or less.
To his right, the bottom crescent of the sun was now still inches above the horizon, at least from his perspective. The sun's light at that angle blanketed the land with light and longer shadows.
The road stretched on for what seemed like forever and there wasn't a vehicle in sight.
Ethan yawned.
Wake up, Ethan, you idiot.
"I am awake," Ethan muttered under his breath, "Moron."
And that made him think of Henry/Hank/Hannah and what happened after he had clocked out that afternoon. Made him think about how ignorant that fool was, how amazingly stupid.
What . . . a . . . retard.
He raised the back of his hand to his mouth and yawned. The scooter swerved a bit and he quickly put his hand back down.
Another yawn. He mentally slapped himself across the face and and shook his head.
You need to keep your head in the game, you dumb-shit.
"Don't tell me what to do, Dad," he said, but then caught himself, "I mean, uhh . . . " And then in a voice barely above a whisper: "Shit."
He needed to find something to do. Something to help him stay focused.
Henry, he thought, or Hannah or whatever fuck his name is. Christ, what an idiot.
He shook his head in pretend disbelief.
Moron of the year.
"Moron of the year," he said outloud, marveling at his witticism. "Of the century!"
Ethan laughed outloud, and then turned towards his shadow on the left and asked, "Don't you just agree with that statement?"
Ethan nodded, and his shadowed counterpart nodded in agreement.
That made him cackle all over again. "You don't say, Shadow? Don't you agree that I'm the best thing to ever happen to Mal-mart?"
His shadow-form willingly nodded its head.
Laughter. The scooter started to wobble over to the wrong side of the road but Ethan quickly recovered. He needed to focus.
Focus.
"Say, shadow-me, how about me and you have a race?"
Shadow-Ethan shrugged his shoulders. Ethan bellowed laughter.
"C'mon, it'll be fun. First one home. Whaddaya say?"
Ethan nodded whilst watching his shadow-self nod in unison.
"Great! On your mark . . . get set . . . GO!"
Ethan leaned forward and occasional glanced left at his shadow, pretending to act competitive. The road began to slightly curve to the right and soon the sun was directly ahead Ethan; his shadow stretched behind him like dark grey taffy.
"Uh-oh! Looks like I'm getting ahead! You better catch up!" Ethan fell into another gale of laughter.
The road ahead began to turn sharply to the left. Ethan began to brake and then leaned into the curve. His shadow made a 180 degree turn and was now in front of him.
"Damn! How'd you get so far ahead?" He mused, and accelerated a little harder.
The road remained devoid of any curves for the next mile or so, and then it began to curl towards the right, like a black ribbon.
His shadow lay to his left again.
"C'mon, you need to do better than that if you want to-"
Something happened. Maybe it was a trick of light, an illusion induced by a peculiar shadow, one derived from the seemingly endless light source emitted from the burning coin in the sky, or it simply was the product of his tired, sleepy state, generating a more realistic illusion of some sorts.
He saw his shadow move.
It was a shadow, of course it was a shadow, it was his shadow and it was simply mimicing his movements, but-
It moved on its own.
That wasn't true, couldn't be true. That was fucking ridiculous. Sounded like something Henry/Hank/Hannah would believe in, along with unicorns, gnomes, and faeries and all other kinds of candy-ass shit.
Like the Tails Doll?
The Tails Doll. Ethan shuddered as the distant and terrifying memory began to crawl grotesquely out of the darkest corners of his mind. He mentally snuffed it out before it could spread out like a wild fire and induce panic. The mere mentioning of this doll sent chills down his spine.
No, he won't believe in it, just like how he won't believe in his shadow moving. It did not move on its own. It's just a shadow, and it copies whatever he does right?
Right?
The scooter swerved towards the edge of the road, threatning to slide into a ditch when Ethan caught himself. He was wide awake now, and felt more perceptive, more aware.
He glanced at his shadow.
There was nothing unusual about it. It was simply his darker, flatter companion, incapable of thought, reasoning, independent movements. . .
The shadow raised its hand into the air. Surprised, Ethan looked at both of his hands, which were welded to the steering mechanism of the scooter. His silhouette was moving on its o-
The shadow, with its hand raised, made a beckoning motion whilst looking at Ethan (Ethan had no idea how he knew this, but he could feel it), turned towards the road and then both itself and the shadow vehicle it was mounted on
(Riiiiiiiiii-iiiiiiiiiip!)
peeled away from the base of Ethan and the scooter, speeding off (albeit, slowly) past Ethan. A black dust cloud followed.
Ethan was left dumbfounded.
That's my shadow, he thought, pointed ahead with a shakey hand.
He took a vast dive into the pools of surrealism as he tried to wrap his mind around this strange occurence.
"Th-th-that's my shadow."
The color left his face, leaving him a ghastly pale.
His shadow just abandoned him. This was the sort of shit you read in fantasy books or watch on that science fiction channel. This couldn't be real. It made no sense. But a quick glance at the apparition hauling ass in front of him said otherwise.
"My shadow left me," he said in a quiet, shrill voice. "Leftmeleftmeleftme-"
It didn't just leave him; his shadow abandoned him, post beckoning. Why would it beckon to him? Did it want a race or something? He reflected on the events preceding this strange encounter. He left work, past a few eating establishments, some undeveloped neighborhoods, ultimately turning on Brooke Road, then challenging his shadow to a-
A race. The shadow wants to race me.
It sounded like a flood of bullshit, a dark grey shadowy flood. But then again, there it was ahead of him, his shadow, puttering off into the distance. Probably mocking Ethan right now, or worse . . . laughing at him. After all, he was losing to his own shadow.
Laughing at me. It's laughing at me, has to be. Old, cocky shadowy-ass motherfucker. It's laughing at me.
Was Ethan going to take that?
No.
Ethan sped up with his shadow. The apparition turned its head at Ethan and then accelerated faster.
"Oh, no you don't." Ethan said coolly, matching his insignificant other's speed.
The road curved deeply towards the right, now. It straightened. Ethan expected the shadow to fall back, it a shadow normally would when the light source is in front of it, but it stayed neck and neck with Ethan, but in the wrong lane.
An oncoming vehicle, one Ethan identified as a Dodge Dakota, spawned in this distance. He wondered vaguely if his former shadow would embrace it head on and swerve.
It swerved, briefly overlapping Ethan and for a second made him feel nauseated, and then it ricocheted back to its original position.
An intersection was coming up. There were no traffic lights, only four stop signs placed strategically on each of the four ends. A car (looked like a grey Toyota Camry to Ethan) had just come to a rest at a stop sign on a road adjacent to Ethan's, on the right.
Both him and the shadow were closing in on the four-way intersection. The shadow, deliberately ignoring the stop sign, sped on through the intersection. The Camry didn't even acknowledge the apparition as it whizzed by and had already began to take off across the four-way, when Ethan decided to do the same.
The Camry swerved and honked furiously, obviously pissed and scared that this guy would do something so dangerous. Personally, Ethan thought the driver could go fuck themselves.
After all, they weren't the one racing their shadow.
The shadowy Ethan was ahead of the real one, but not for long. Ethan sped up even faster, surpassing the legal limit at a speed of 75mph. The road began to waver again towards the left, shifting the sunlight's position, but Ethan learned to ignore it. The sun's light had no affect on this shadow.
Coming up ahead was a more narrow path with large oak trees on both sides of the road, casting it almost entirely in shadow. Ethan wondered how that would affect his counterpart.
They were now both submerged in the tree's cascading darkness. A wave of panic spread over Ethan like a vibrating, repelling blanket.
"Where are you?" He hissed in the air looking left and right, "Just where in the bloody hell are you? Show yourself!"
Ethan couldn't see his shadow. It was lost. He had lost his own silhouette amongst the shadowy tree limbs and the shadowy leaves and the shadowy-
"Show yourself!" Ethan commanded. He didn't realize it, but he was starting to sob. His chest heaved up and down. "Shadowy-ass motherfucker! Where are you, goddammit?! You fuckin' coward! Where the fuck are you? Show your shadowy-ass self! GOD, JUST WHERE IN THE BLUE FUCK ARE YOU?!"
Black, his mind respondedly incoherently, you meant black fuck. He's a shadow, after all. Just a shadow, Ethan, Just a sha-
"Oh God," Ethan whimpered, "Where are you? Please, that's all I need, it's all I want, just where ARE you, where are-"
Up ahead the road curved to towards the right, and the trees' shadow line faded. Ethan's shadow materialized out on the road and sped up around the corner, its shadowy limbs pulling flat, grey branches and leaves off of its body while still maintaining stability on the road.
"There you are!" Ethan shouted triumphantly. "Shadowy-ass motherfucker, you're mine!"
Ethan leaned into the curve, gaining speed, air resistance swept against his face and embraced his flowing hair. His mouth was pulled back in a snarl, exposing his crooked, yellow-tinted teeth.
They were both neck-and-neck now. Ethan's shadow was still pulling out branches and leaves away from its face and body.
This was it.
Ethan knew it was his moment to take the lead.
He sped up considerably and soon, his own shadow started to fall back. Ethan became ecstatic. In his reveling, he merged onto the wrong side of the road.
The sun was in front of them, a flaming golden ring hovering in the blue abyss.
Ethan turned his head back to gloat.
"Take that! Laugh at me, did you? Well, who's laughing now!" And with that he went up in a gale of cracked laughter.
His shadow-self began to fall back even more. It was now devoid of all the shadowy twigs, leaves, limbs that were previously (and apparently) crippling its driving abilities, but instead of catching up to Ethan, it threw its hand outs in front and waved as it were trying to wash a window with both hands.
And then something happened.
The shadow of another vehicle, one much larger, apparently collided with it. There was a small, awkward scattering of smaller shadows
(like it EXPLODED)
and then it (Ethan's shadow) ceased to exist.
"I won," Ethan whispered. "I won, I won, I WON!"
There was a noise somewhere; a low-pitched, loud noise, but Ethan ignored it. He was too deep in the moment, too busy commemorating his victory.
"I WON!" Ethan shouted and threw his head back in a burst of insane laughter.
HOOOOOONK! HOOOOOONK!
Ethan's laugh dissolved into a nervous chuckle.
HOOOOOONK!
"Wha-? What's th-" He levelled his head and stared out in front of him. His mouth hung agape, his eyes opened wide as stared at the chrome, bug-stained grill of the oncoming eighteen-wheeler. His hands shot forward in the air as if he were trying to wash a window with both hands.
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!
Ethan's body tore open upon impact; blood squirted, bones cracked, gore gushed out in a brilliant array. Bodily organs twisted and ripped, fluids sprayed out and managed to splatter the windshield. His scooter lay in a ditch further back, mangled and beat up. That was all that remained of Ethan; nothing more than a shadow of his former self.
By Albatross
"We saw
The shadows of the morning light,
The shadows of the evening sun,
Until the shadows and the lights were one."
". . .Don't dare me now
The threatening shadows will pass by.
They're getting closer now!
Open your eyes!
Wake up, my dear young friend!. . ."
". . .Your time is coming
You've gone insane
You're feeling happy;
You've won the game
Time is coming
A bed of flames
Your life is over
And you're to blame. . ."
Shadow Race
"Hey! Ethan!"
Ethan, who had just clocked out not even a few minutes ago, stopped abruptly in his tracks at the sound of his name. He cast his head towards the ground and squinted his eyes, as if he were wincing in pain. His fingers curled into a loose fist, the end of his dirty chewed fingernails brushed against his dry palm.
"Hey! Wait up!"
Ethan had stopped moving at the sound of his name, and now this guy was telling him to wait up? Did that guy really expect him to start backtracking or something? Was he really so inept? Apparently, this was the sort of annoying guy who would persist even when he's being ignored, and Ethan felt as if he had a good idea who this guy was.
Reluctantly, Ethan turned around.
"Hey, did you just clock in?" The guy asked.
No, he did not just clock in. Normally, a simple no would have sufficed, but Ethan was in no mood to interact with anyone. He just wanted to leave, just wanted to go home, the sooner the better. But no, a basic no would not suffice, not this time. He would
(Leave this guy hangin to dry, Ethan, just leave him to . . . fuckin . . . DRY)
just say 'fuck it' and then leave, and if that annoying guy persisted even more, well, he can have fun talking to himself or fondling his private or whatever annoying guys like him do and Ethan wouldn't give a shit because he'd be. . .
Getting the fuck out of this shitty-ass store, he thought to himself cynically. And besides, if he were to say no, that would invite this guy to lash out with other questions, questions Ethan had no patience for; he wanted to get the fuck out of here.
But on the other hand, if he did say something, maybe that would satisfy this guys idiotic conversational needs and end this now. Considering this, Ethan replied:
"No. Just clocked out." If he sounded cross or rude when he said it, well, that was good. It would make things run a bit smoother and in his favor.
"Cool! Are you going home?" The guy asked cheerfully.
He wanted to say: Of course I am, you dumb shit. Where else would I go? Africa? Moscow? Fuckin Altair-4? He felt his fists tighten, felt the octet of fingernails digging into the pink flesh that were his palms, felt ready to punch this guy's face into new and exciting shapes, for no better reason than the fact that this guy had asked such a stupid question. And what was his name? Henry? Hank? Hell, it could of been Hannah for all he cared. All he knew was that he was fellow Cashier (who had just started recently) here at Mal-Mart, and not one he was particularly fond of either.
Oh . . . that and also that his name began with the letter H.
"Yeah," Ethan replied, expecting Henry, Hank or Hannah to try to maintain what was left of this incoherent, nonsensical conversation (at least, to Ethan), and Ethan would of have no problem shutting it down; he wanted to get the hell out of this stagnant cesspool of mediocrity, and if that meant
(leavin him out to dry)
beating this guy to a point beyond recognition, well then so be it.
So, you're wanting to beat the shit out of this guy just cause he told you hey? Is he really the inept one here, Ethan? Is he really?
Okay, so no, he wouldn't be punching anyone's face in. He just wanted to get home; that was the fuck of it.
"Cool," Henry/Hank/Hannah said, "Well, bye. Have a good one." And then he was off, just like that.
It actually took a moment for Ethan to process what had just occured, as he was so bent on the belief that this guy would be attempting to keep this useless, pathetic conversation afloat (a guy at work, a cart pusher named Jared, would of said, 'he's more screwed than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest'), oblivious to Ethan's obvious frustration. After an extremely infinitesimal moment of consideration, Ethan gladly took off again without giving any more thought to that brief palaver.
He walked out in front of Cash Registers and sported an artificial smile to whoever turned to acknowledge him along the way. A few cashiers looked away from their Cash Registers, sporting toothy grins, and waved at Ethan. He returned the favors, but was muttering some pretty morbid, cynical thoughts in his head as he did so.
He passed by CSM Karen (Jared the Cart Pusher always called her 'Karen the Wonder Hag') as she was counting money at the CSM Podium. She turned and glared at Ethan as he walked by. The sleeves on their shirts brushed as he passed.
Well, fuck you and that red Mustang you rode in on, he mused.
He burst out in a stream of rich laughter and when he craned his neck and saw Karen staring at him with hateful eyes, her mouth distorted in some weird snarl, (he guessed that that was supposed to convey disgust) mouthing or muttering something he couldn't quite decipher. Under the circumstances, he really didn't care anyway.
Ethan walked out into main entrance, and then walked out through the automatic double-doors and immediately embraced a wave of warm, summer air. The sun was high in the sky, but was beginning to curve downwards towards the horizon. It was late afternoon.
He walked along the sidewalk that eventually curved and faded into the beginning of the Associate parking lot. Ethan weaved through the many vechicles until
(voila!)
he saw small dark blue Motor Scooter leaning on its kick-stand.
Ethan mounted and started it up, doing away with the kick-stand and revving it a bit before shifting into gear and then taking off down the parking lot. A gentle breeze blew back thick streaks of his brown hair due to the increased air resistance.
He puttered out of the parking lot and onto Alcoa Blvd. and followed it for about a third of a mile until it curved to the right and ultimately into a four-way intersection. The light was green. Great. That moved things along just nicely.
Ethan put his right blinker on and leaned into the turn. He was now on Holly Street.
He drove on for about two miles, passing vacant buildings, a few small neighborhoods, one of those fast-food hamburger joints called McDonovan's. The second light he passed was green, but the third turned yellow right before he reached the intersection. The Mazda Protege in front him started braking. Ethan found this unacceptable. He sped up, surpassing the speed limit, and made a lane change, not even bothering to use his blinker. The Protege fell behind as he zoomed on through the intersection. A trick of light turned yellow into red. A white light flashed behind him.
Great, he thought. Just fuckin great.
He was about twenty-three miles from home.
The scenery began to dissolve from a city along the coast to a flat, barren land with random patches of trees. Some random teens in a black Charger whizzed passed him blaring rap music and sped off into the distance, leaving a tail of dust.
Idiots.
Ethan drove on for another three miles before the road began to curve towards the left and rise on a hill. He came to a stop sign at another intersection and turned left on Brooke Road. Another twenty miles to go.
The speed limit on this country road was sixty. Ethan was traveling at this speed, more or less.
To his right, the bottom crescent of the sun was now still inches above the horizon, at least from his perspective. The sun's light at that angle blanketed the land with light and longer shadows.
The road stretched on for what seemed like forever and there wasn't a vehicle in sight.
Ethan yawned.
Wake up, Ethan, you idiot.
"I am awake," Ethan muttered under his breath, "Moron."
And that made him think of Henry/Hank/Hannah and what happened after he had clocked out that afternoon. Made him think about how ignorant that fool was, how amazingly stupid.
What . . . a . . . retard.
He raised the back of his hand to his mouth and yawned. The scooter swerved a bit and he quickly put his hand back down.
Another yawn. He mentally slapped himself across the face and and shook his head.
You need to keep your head in the game, you dumb-shit.
"Don't tell me what to do, Dad," he said, but then caught himself, "I mean, uhh . . . " And then in a voice barely above a whisper: "Shit."
He needed to find something to do. Something to help him stay focused.
Henry, he thought, or Hannah or whatever fuck his name is. Christ, what an idiot.
He shook his head in pretend disbelief.
Moron of the year.
"Moron of the year," he said outloud, marveling at his witticism. "Of the century!"
Ethan laughed outloud, and then turned towards his shadow on the left and asked, "Don't you just agree with that statement?"
Ethan nodded, and his shadowed counterpart nodded in agreement.
That made him cackle all over again. "You don't say, Shadow? Don't you agree that I'm the best thing to ever happen to Mal-mart?"
His shadow-form willingly nodded its head.
Laughter. The scooter started to wobble over to the wrong side of the road but Ethan quickly recovered. He needed to focus.
Focus.
"Say, shadow-me, how about me and you have a race?"
Shadow-Ethan shrugged his shoulders. Ethan bellowed laughter.
"C'mon, it'll be fun. First one home. Whaddaya say?"
Ethan nodded whilst watching his shadow-self nod in unison.
"Great! On your mark . . . get set . . . GO!"
Ethan leaned forward and occasional glanced left at his shadow, pretending to act competitive. The road began to slightly curve to the right and soon the sun was directly ahead Ethan; his shadow stretched behind him like dark grey taffy.
"Uh-oh! Looks like I'm getting ahead! You better catch up!" Ethan fell into another gale of laughter.
The road ahead began to turn sharply to the left. Ethan began to brake and then leaned into the curve. His shadow made a 180 degree turn and was now in front of him.
"Damn! How'd you get so far ahead?" He mused, and accelerated a little harder.
The road remained devoid of any curves for the next mile or so, and then it began to curl towards the right, like a black ribbon.
His shadow lay to his left again.
"C'mon, you need to do better than that if you want to-"
Something happened. Maybe it was a trick of light, an illusion induced by a peculiar shadow, one derived from the seemingly endless light source emitted from the burning coin in the sky, or it simply was the product of his tired, sleepy state, generating a more realistic illusion of some sorts.
He saw his shadow move.
It was a shadow, of course it was a shadow, it was his shadow and it was simply mimicing his movements, but-
It moved on its own.
That wasn't true, couldn't be true. That was fucking ridiculous. Sounded like something Henry/Hank/Hannah would believe in, along with unicorns, gnomes, and faeries and all other kinds of candy-ass shit.
Like the Tails Doll?
The Tails Doll. Ethan shuddered as the distant and terrifying memory began to crawl grotesquely out of the darkest corners of his mind. He mentally snuffed it out before it could spread out like a wild fire and induce panic. The mere mentioning of this doll sent chills down his spine.
No, he won't believe in it, just like how he won't believe in his shadow moving. It did not move on its own. It's just a shadow, and it copies whatever he does right?
Right?
The scooter swerved towards the edge of the road, threatning to slide into a ditch when Ethan caught himself. He was wide awake now, and felt more perceptive, more aware.
He glanced at his shadow.
There was nothing unusual about it. It was simply his darker, flatter companion, incapable of thought, reasoning, independent movements. . .
The shadow raised its hand into the air. Surprised, Ethan looked at both of his hands, which were welded to the steering mechanism of the scooter. His silhouette was moving on its o-
The shadow, with its hand raised, made a beckoning motion whilst looking at Ethan (Ethan had no idea how he knew this, but he could feel it), turned towards the road and then both itself and the shadow vehicle it was mounted on
(Riiiiiiiiii-iiiiiiiiiip!)
peeled away from the base of Ethan and the scooter, speeding off (albeit, slowly) past Ethan. A black dust cloud followed.
Ethan was left dumbfounded.
That's my shadow, he thought, pointed ahead with a shakey hand.
He took a vast dive into the pools of surrealism as he tried to wrap his mind around this strange occurence.
"Th-th-that's my shadow."
The color left his face, leaving him a ghastly pale.
His shadow just abandoned him. This was the sort of shit you read in fantasy books or watch on that science fiction channel. This couldn't be real. It made no sense. But a quick glance at the apparition hauling ass in front of him said otherwise.
"My shadow left me," he said in a quiet, shrill voice. "Leftmeleftmeleftme-"
It didn't just leave him; his shadow abandoned him, post beckoning. Why would it beckon to him? Did it want a race or something? He reflected on the events preceding this strange encounter. He left work, past a few eating establishments, some undeveloped neighborhoods, ultimately turning on Brooke Road, then challenging his shadow to a-
A race. The shadow wants to race me.
It sounded like a flood of bullshit, a dark grey shadowy flood. But then again, there it was ahead of him, his shadow, puttering off into the distance. Probably mocking Ethan right now, or worse . . . laughing at him. After all, he was losing to his own shadow.
Laughing at me. It's laughing at me, has to be. Old, cocky shadowy-ass motherfucker. It's laughing at me.
Was Ethan going to take that?
No.
Ethan sped up with his shadow. The apparition turned its head at Ethan and then accelerated faster.
"Oh, no you don't." Ethan said coolly, matching his insignificant other's speed.
The road curved deeply towards the right, now. It straightened. Ethan expected the shadow to fall back, it a shadow normally would when the light source is in front of it, but it stayed neck and neck with Ethan, but in the wrong lane.
An oncoming vehicle, one Ethan identified as a Dodge Dakota, spawned in this distance. He wondered vaguely if his former shadow would embrace it head on and swerve.
It swerved, briefly overlapping Ethan and for a second made him feel nauseated, and then it ricocheted back to its original position.
An intersection was coming up. There were no traffic lights, only four stop signs placed strategically on each of the four ends. A car (looked like a grey Toyota Camry to Ethan) had just come to a rest at a stop sign on a road adjacent to Ethan's, on the right.
Both him and the shadow were closing in on the four-way intersection. The shadow, deliberately ignoring the stop sign, sped on through the intersection. The Camry didn't even acknowledge the apparition as it whizzed by and had already began to take off across the four-way, when Ethan decided to do the same.
The Camry swerved and honked furiously, obviously pissed and scared that this guy would do something so dangerous. Personally, Ethan thought the driver could go fuck themselves.
After all, they weren't the one racing their shadow.
The shadowy Ethan was ahead of the real one, but not for long. Ethan sped up even faster, surpassing the legal limit at a speed of 75mph. The road began to waver again towards the left, shifting the sunlight's position, but Ethan learned to ignore it. The sun's light had no affect on this shadow.
Coming up ahead was a more narrow path with large oak trees on both sides of the road, casting it almost entirely in shadow. Ethan wondered how that would affect his counterpart.
They were now both submerged in the tree's cascading darkness. A wave of panic spread over Ethan like a vibrating, repelling blanket.
"Where are you?" He hissed in the air looking left and right, "Just where in the bloody hell are you? Show yourself!"
Ethan couldn't see his shadow. It was lost. He had lost his own silhouette amongst the shadowy tree limbs and the shadowy leaves and the shadowy-
"Show yourself!" Ethan commanded. He didn't realize it, but he was starting to sob. His chest heaved up and down. "Shadowy-ass motherfucker! Where are you, goddammit?! You fuckin' coward! Where the fuck are you? Show your shadowy-ass self! GOD, JUST WHERE IN THE BLUE FUCK ARE YOU?!"
Black, his mind respondedly incoherently, you meant black fuck. He's a shadow, after all. Just a shadow, Ethan, Just a sha-
"Oh God," Ethan whimpered, "Where are you? Please, that's all I need, it's all I want, just where ARE you, where are-"
Up ahead the road curved to towards the right, and the trees' shadow line faded. Ethan's shadow materialized out on the road and sped up around the corner, its shadowy limbs pulling flat, grey branches and leaves off of its body while still maintaining stability on the road.
"There you are!" Ethan shouted triumphantly. "Shadowy-ass motherfucker, you're mine!"
Ethan leaned into the curve, gaining speed, air resistance swept against his face and embraced his flowing hair. His mouth was pulled back in a snarl, exposing his crooked, yellow-tinted teeth.
They were both neck-and-neck now. Ethan's shadow was still pulling out branches and leaves away from its face and body.
This was it.
Ethan knew it was his moment to take the lead.
He sped up considerably and soon, his own shadow started to fall back. Ethan became ecstatic. In his reveling, he merged onto the wrong side of the road.
The sun was in front of them, a flaming golden ring hovering in the blue abyss.
Ethan turned his head back to gloat.
"Take that! Laugh at me, did you? Well, who's laughing now!" And with that he went up in a gale of cracked laughter.
His shadow-self began to fall back even more. It was now devoid of all the shadowy twigs, leaves, limbs that were previously (and apparently) crippling its driving abilities, but instead of catching up to Ethan, it threw its hand outs in front and waved as it were trying to wash a window with both hands.
And then something happened.
The shadow of another vehicle, one much larger, apparently collided with it. There was a small, awkward scattering of smaller shadows
(like it EXPLODED)
and then it (Ethan's shadow) ceased to exist.
"I won," Ethan whispered. "I won, I won, I WON!"
There was a noise somewhere; a low-pitched, loud noise, but Ethan ignored it. He was too deep in the moment, too busy commemorating his victory.
"I WON!" Ethan shouted and threw his head back in a burst of insane laughter.
HOOOOOONK! HOOOOOONK!
Ethan's laugh dissolved into a nervous chuckle.
HOOOOOONK!
"Wha-? What's th-" He levelled his head and stared out in front of him. His mouth hung agape, his eyes opened wide as stared at the chrome, bug-stained grill of the oncoming eighteen-wheeler. His hands shot forward in the air as if he were trying to wash a window with both hands.
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!
Ethan's body tore open upon impact; blood squirted, bones cracked, gore gushed out in a brilliant array. Bodily organs twisted and ripped, fluids sprayed out and managed to splatter the windshield. His scooter lay in a ditch further back, mangled and beat up. That was all that remained of Ethan; nothing more than a shadow of his former self.