A Daemon's Babble

The Shadow Thief

And he’s always there, you know? Whenever he’s needed, yeah? Even when he’s not and I hate him, don’tcha know?

Him? Who is him? Him is he and he is him.

And it was dark and it was night, and the trees were swaying with the wind and it was silent. And I was there, too, with the dark and running to my house. My sneakers hit the pavement as my backpack was hitting my back and I was scared because I didn’t like the dark. And as I turned the corner he appeared, dragging me into an empty alleyway. And I didn’t know who he was, for the mask was over his face, the ski one and the shiny gun which is against my back. And he’s the mugger, with the broken teeth and with his filthy hands pawing through my backpack. And I squirm and the gun is pressed into my back and I stop, because now I’m more scared of the man than the dark and my hands go up in surrender. And then he screams, the mugger does and the shadow plops out of the sky, as black as midnight and with eyes twinkling mischievously like stars. And the gun’s out of my back and aimed at the shadow figure and the shadow man smiles, a creepy, dark thing as the gun is fired.

But the shadow man doesn’t fall, but the mugger does because the shadow man kicks him in the face. And he moans and doesn’t get back up. The shadow man looks at me briefly with those strange eyes, picks up all my stuff, and places something in my hand. Because he’s just a thief, just as bad, with his smirks and lies. And then he’s gone, nothing more than a silhouette against the alleyway.

And I should chase him, because he took what was mine but I don’t because he saved me and gave me something even though that something is unknown. So I look down and see something small and glimmering. And it’s that. The bullet which the mugger shot which the shadow boy caught.

And then I’m home, ran all the way with the bullet in my hands, and the next morning I’m seeing him everywhere. The shadow boy is up in a tree, leaves clouding his face, he’s at a locker, face hidden by the door, he’s on the bus, facing away from me, he’s hidden under a baseball cap and I wonder if I’ve totally lost it, seeing the shadow boy everywhere.

And he’s always there, when the bullies are behind me in the library when it’s dark, with his arm around my waist and his eyes threatening, and they back off and so does he, leaving no clue about who he is or even what his voice sounds like. He’s there when I nearly fall into the river at night, catching me, making me regain my balance, fixing me with a stern stare, and when my mom comes to see what’s wrong, I look, and when I look back he’s gone. And he’s a thief, but he shows up when I need him.

And then he shows up when I least want him there. When I slip and all my food goes flying up into my face, he’s there with a Polaroid camera covering his face and when I get caught and have to read the note in front of the class, he’s in the back of the class, hair covering his face, and I know he’s smiling.

And then he shows up in my dreams. And all the time he’s there in the shadows and I’m running to him, and I’m scared, not sure of the dark or what’s behind me or of him even, and always I get to him and I’m nearly in hysterics. I'm terrified, and when I think I’m safe, he looks up and his face is completely black, rippling as if it’s a shadow himself and then the stars twinkle where his eyes should be as his black claws fasten around my neck and he’s crushing the life out of me and I’m yelling for him to get away you psychotic thief and I wake up gasping for breath.

And I’m at home, alone, and its raining and I’m watching a movie remake about aliens, and I’m hungry, and I get up to get some food when I stop short, because he’s in my house, the window open and the rain falling in, the thunder booming. And he has his head stuck in my refrigerator, so all I can see are his hunched shoulders, the ragged, patched shirt, covering them, and the black jeans and combat boots. And right as I’m about to scream, the power goes off and the darkness envelops me like a blanket. And I see his figure look up, but as always, his features are shrouded by shadows and secrecy but I do like to think that he’s smiling, though, eases the thought that maybe he’s about to kill me. But he says nothing and does nothing, merely walks up to me, goes around me and down the hallway to where the door is. And he simply opens the door, the rain cascading down his face, and looks back at me. And when the lightning flashes I see him for the first time.

I think he’s exactly like I imagine him. He has pools of blue for eyes, swirling around, twinkling, the pure essence of mischief. And his hair is jet black and his skin is copper and his face as framed by hard edges. And his mouth is curved into such a devious, devilish smile that seems to mock me that for a second I feel indignation that he dares laugh at me. And he does laugh; his smile all fox. And he lifts a lithe hand with long fingers and tips an imaginary hat and says, “See you soon.”

And then he is gone, leaving my door swinging on its hinges. And after a few minutes of gawking, I say in a small voice, “Bye.”

And I know he hears it.

And that night, when the dream comes again and I’m running, I know how the dream will end but I’m more scared of the thing chasing me. And he’s there, his face in full light, only he’s frowning as if he’s disappointed in me, which is bad, bad, bad because now he’ll choke me harder and I reach him and he holds out his claws. But they don’t go into my throat, they go into the monster behind me. And he laughs at my shock, before I wake up laughing as well.

And I think of that awful, awful thief.

I think of that thief who left me laughing in the middle of the night.

I think of that thief who left my house laughing with my heart in his hands.