The shade

A Story by ClockworkSheep

A shade who walks timeless in gray world.

Rain pitter-pattered along the streets, a dark cloud overhung, but only on one curious looking shade. Its steps were heavy as it trudged along, on its way back home. Around them pass many people, all dressed the same, each one bore no face. They never took a second glance at the rained upon shade. Who was continuing on its way, its eyes seemed glazed over, vast and empty spheres. In one hand it held an empty bottle, which once held a substitute for happiness. As it shoved its way through the crowds, one would notice that the rain never touched anyone but the shade. No matter who or what came in contact with it. The shade’s body absorbed the black rain like a sponge to water. As it walked, its body would seem to break into pieces, and then reform. It was always moving, shifting it never stayed constant. Approaching at a park, the shade stops in its tracks. In front of its feet laid a crumpled black mass. What used to be a raven was now twisted and bent into something hideous. The wings had been torn off, the beak broken ajar and the eyes plucked out of their sockets. Without much thought the shade picked up the dead carrion in its arms. Cradling the corpse with the bottle as it continued to walk. Time passed quickly around the moving shade, even though it did not, nor whatever it touched. It would often pause to watch those around it, with silent recognition. Watching the world as day turned to night in seconds, always repeating the cycle. Then, in an instant time seemed to stop, even as the shade still walked, but all around it life had paused. It reached a shop window before it stopped. Staring with a bottle in one hand and the dead bird in the other. Analysing its reflection, it leaned closer to the window. The bottle seemed to slip from its bony fingers, making contact with the pavement below. As it shattered, the sound echoed loud, like a gunshot. The dead raven stirred at the noise, and made its way to escape, soaring into the sky. A silent cry came from the shade’s lips, but none could hear it. As the clock tower rang its bell loud and clear. Time resumed, causing a cascade of black liquid to be projected from the shade’s mouth. As it drowned, only it was harmed while those passing by did not look, and did not care. It was consumed by this dark liquid, yet its reflection remained on the window. It was still holding the bottle and dead bird, until time ceased to exist.