The Shadow

Chapter 1 (A Promise You Should Keep)

Paul did not know whether he was considered a charismatic or cursed person, but sometimes being able to see what others could not was not the best thing he could have asked for.

He was a fine young lad. At least he seemed to be so. At the age of seventeen, Paul had come to terms with his inherited charisma. His mother had helped him as much as she possibly could for she was in the same boat as her beloved son. "No one could know", she had told him once, not even his father and brother. And that was a promise he should never break.

After his mother's death, Paul was left to cope with this 'talent' alone. Paul had suffered depression after her passing away and was sent to a psychologist. Hell, if people knew he would be sent to a psychiatrist. And it would be a logical thing to do, because seeing dead people was not considered pretty normal.

Sometimes, it was really difficult to hide away, he needed help, he needed to share these things with someone. He tried to find his mother's spirit countless times. In the graveyard, the streets, even in their house, he had looked every place possible, yet had not found her nowhere. And even asking other spirits was proven useless because no one knew about her.

He walked down the familiar streets, almost nearing his home. He glared at the old woman who sat peacefully on the bench.

Mrs. Gray was a neighbor. Used to be, at least. She had passed away a couple years ago, some days after receiving the news that her only daughter had died in a car accident.

Paul saw her frequently sitting on the same bench, always wearing an unreadable expression in her face most of the times. He hadn't bothered to engage a conversation with her, after all talking to a bench would seem strange and odd, if not scary, to any passerby.

"Dad, I'm home." Paul called as soon as he hung his coat on the hanger behind the front door. He popped his head in the kitchen to greet his father, but instead found his younger brother sitting on the kitchen table, fussing over something on his notebook, erasing something and then writing down again.

"Hey Michael." he greeted and threw his schoolbag on the floor which landed with a loud thump near his feet.

"Dad's going to be late. He said not to wait for him."

"Alright." Paul nodded and helped the fifteen year old boy serve down the food.

"How was school today?" Paul asked while tasting the soup considering if it needed more salt or not.

"Last time I checked you were not dad, were you?" Michael snapped.

"Oh, come off it Mike." Paul frowned as he decided the salt was absolutely needed. Seemed like his cooking needed improvement and soon enough.

"We wrote a test. I did quite okay." Michael shrugged but then his face lit up, causing his older brother to frown in confusion. "Also...I met a girl."

"Again?" Paul looked at him in disbelief. His brother was quite the shy one but when it came to girls he was a quite the opposite.

"Problem, brother?" Michael smirked.

"Not at all."

"Are we jealous Paulie? Jealous that I found a girlfriend but you did not, even though you're two years older?"

"No Mike. Not at all." Paul shook his head. Michael mocked at him and Paul smacked him on the back of his head, "Do not press you luck, baby brother."

"Oh shut up Paul." he laughed lightly.

After finishing the rest of their lunch in silence, Paul informed that he wanted to rest and left an irritated Michael alone to cope with the dishes.

He climbed upstairs and opened the door of his bedroom. He was greeted with a mess, clothes lying around all the room. He would take care of this later, he thought. He lied on his bed and buried his face in a pillow. The headache he had since he woke up this morning did not seem to fade away.

He got up and silently opened the window to climb out of his room and up to the roof. He used to do that a lot after his mother's death for he could not stand being in the same house, the same rooms she used to walk in. And he certainly could not stand seeing his father breaking down every time she was mentioned. Up there he was always greeted with silence, a kind of soothing silence that always helped him relax and sometimes 'spy' on people and spirits in the cemetery.

He lied down on the roof tiles and gazed at the view. His neighborhood was quiet and depressing, full of dark alleys and replicate houses. Their parents had always had the big dream to move away from this neighborhood and find a nice cottage to live in. Unfortunately, plans had come sort of upside down. A new house was their least of priorities at this period of time.

"Hey."

 Paul jumped at the raspy voice behind him. He felt the shadow approaching closer to his place. In an instant, he turned abruptly to find a young man smirking at him. He looked at the boy. He obviously had not seen him before. There was nothing familiar about him. His kind of short auburn hair was styled in a quiff, slightly falling to his right side, like teddy boys tended to do. His hazel eyes were almond shaped and the burning glare he shot him was electrifying. He was probably his age, maybe a little older. He seemed like any of his classmates but yet completely different. There was something distant in him.

"Who the heck are you?" he asked his voice almost a whisper, afraid it would tremble in fear if he spoke louder.

"I'm John." the boy smiled.

"John Lennon."