Shadows

  The mansion revealed nothing. Like a shell left behind by some sort of creature, it was physically full and yet somehow spiritually empty. The Saturday night hung on itself in the humid air. Devan’s hair was matted down in the downpour. Jillian, at his side, was hiding under a small umbrella, but still looked incredibly wet. Tony, behind them, was underneath his jacket, sharing it with Tara next to him. Still behind him was Matt, who ignored rain’s existence.
  To them, this empty shell was a shelter, and they rushed inside. The secret graduation party was rained out, and since they told their parents it was a night trip to Boston, they couldn’t go home. Besides, Jillian looked pretty drunk.
  Even opening the door was a dark and mysterious event. The inactivity inside somehow made the night brighter as it spilled out at them.
  Devan turned on the lights. The mansion was very original, a bear skin on the floor, and several prized catches of fish hung on the wall. Jillian shook her hair like a dog, alcohol controlled her words.
  “A hunter’s place? Well, we are by the beach. Must have been where he got the bear.” She pulled her bangs out of her face. Jillian was Devan's girlfriend, a shy and studious young woman turned crazed partier by alcohol. As she looked at Devan, he summarized reasons for their relationship. He had a prominent chest, wavy blonde hair...and even a good status among the football team.
  “We should check this place out. You know, it might not be empty.” Tony was always cautious. Back at school, he would always be the one to pass things in right on time, if not before, and he justified himself by saying: 'It's not cowardice, it's just being sure.'
  Matt took the blanket draped over the couch and used it as a towel to dry off. He was the tough guy who never realized his weaknesses, lest someone get a few beatings. He had relations with Tony, they traded CD's, and their sharp contrast only enhanced the friendship. It kept them both safe, more or less.
    Tara patted the blobs of wet out of her jeans. She was Tony's girlfriend. She despised beer and was not high, but her optimistic and imaginative nature made many perceive her as childish and crazy.
    Tony walked up a flight of stairs, visibly afraid but not shaken. He opened a door which led to a guest bedroom. No windows, just like a cell, and dusty enough, with a queen-sized bed and drawers.
  Tara threw herself onto the bed. “Me and you will sleep in here tonight.”
Tony smiled and checked the next door. The full bedroom, bed draped in fancy cloth and a golden sun embedded in the bed’s head.
  Jillian, suddenly behind him, ran inside and announced her and Devan’s residence. She started to take off her clothes and Tony quickly shut the door.
  “Where do I sleep?” Matt asked. “Ah, the hell with it.” He looked around with Tony. “There a kitchen?”
  “Yeah, it’s over there.”
Matt flicked on the light and opened the small fridge. He found a sixteen pack of Budweiser and helped himself. “What time is it?”
  “Midnight. On the dot.”
“I’m thinking you two should check on your babes.” Matt finished a bottle. “Especially that Jill chick. What a Luna-chick.” Laughing at his own joke.
    “Tara’s coming back, Matt. It’s cool. Pass me a beer.”
“Now you’re talking.”
                                        *************************
  Jillian lay on the bed, naked, her mind racing in a drunken frenzy. Darkness around her, consuming her, seeping into her brain, speaking to her.
        The shadows don’t speak often, girly girl.
  Jillian laughed. “Who’s there? That you Devan?”
    Silly girly girl. They chuckled with a sense of malice.
        “Tony? Matt?”
They are visible, we are not! Girly girl, you better keep yourself wary!
    Jillian rolled over, almost falling out of bed, as if she could turn away from the shadows. Instantly, they were in front of her.
  We are also inescapable. We are essentially power in its darkest form.
  “Good joke. Now shut up.”
The shadows roared, angry and loud. Then Devan opened the door and all the shadows fled.
    “Jill, where are your clothes?”
“Good thing you came. Shadows were about to get me.”
    If Devan knew one thing about being with Jill, it was to go along with drunken tales.
  “That’s why I came, sweetie.”
    Jillian giggled. She always liked being called sweetie.
“We’re only here for the night, Jillian. Don’t get too comfortable.”
    “This bed is like a rock, Dev, I’m not comfortable.” Devan sat on the bed and felt the luxury cushioning amazing, but didn’t protest.
  “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t want to do anything….you know.” 
    “What makes you say I want to do that? You’re so assuming, Dev, get control of yourself.” She turned her face into a scowl rather quickly and Devan watched his step.
  “Sorry sweetie.”
Giggle. That was the water for her fire.
  Devan heard a crash downstairs. Jillian heard a lion’s roar.
“Be right back, sweetie.” Devan left, shutting the door behind him. He looked downstairs.
    Matt, Tony, and Tara where all sitting around a small table with beer, the television they found on but dim and ignored, and the lights on a bit too bright.
  “Guys, watch the power, you’re gonna cause an outage.”
“Oh the microwave’s already dead. Oh, television just went.”
  The lights, one by one, popped and shadow spilled into the room. Devan sighed angrily.
  “You guys use too much power even in an abandoned mansion!”
“We all have faults, Devan.”
    Then, Devan felt a sudden brushing of his foot, like a rat or a snake. He suddenly became very afraid, not because of an animal but because of this newfound vulnerability, how the dark made him a clear target. He raised his foot back and focused his sight on the ground- nothing.
    “Jeez, Devan, are you scared?” Tony said. Devan knew he was right but wanted to punch him for being such a hypocrite.
    For a while they did nothing, at times slowly moving, but generally helpless.
“I’m comin’ up.” Matt said and began to move, hands outstretched. Devan heard his steps….thud, thud. Thud. Then, he screamed in pain and there was an enormous thud, the sound of sliding down stairs.
    Devan panicked. Adrenaline pushed him to the end of the overpass, somehow avoiding all obstacles and pressed the wall. His hands struck something metal, something square. As Tara screamed in fear, Devan groped at the box and found a switch, pulling it down.
  Just before the back-up power came on, he felt the brush again.
      Matt was on the ground at the bottom of the stairs, a hole in his back, dead. Devan tried to back away, finding he was already in a corner. Screams took the air’s place as he ran into his room.
    Jillian must have fallen. She was on the ground, her hands slightly bleeding, cut by loose splinters in the bed frame. She looked up at Devan.
  “You look scared.” The beer was finishing its course.
“Matt’s been killed, Jillian. Stabbed in the back.”
    Jill raised up, the bad news speeding up the sobriety.
“Matt! He’s dead!” Jillian repeated, putting her clothes back on in panicked speed. She raced down the stairs.
  Everyone with teary eyes stared at Matt. Jillian and Tara both screamed and shouted, often simultaneously, but Devan and Tony said nothing. The terror that filled them had no sound.
  “Let’s try to get together.” Devan said. Tears and perspiration soaked his eyes and face. “Open the door, let’s get out of here.” Devan assumed leadership but no one cared.
  Tony pushed the main entrance. It budged only a bit before reverting to normal. Its side had been smashed into splinters, which caught the opposite door. The more he strained, the more splinters were cut from the clean door and the more trapped they were. He had to give up.
    Devan spoke slowly. “Someone’s in here…killing us….or trying to…”
  “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Jillian couldn’t bear it and ordered him to be silent. She seemed to be rocking back and forth, fear propelling her like an antique chair.
  “It must be one of us.” Tony pointed out. In an instant, the friends became arch-enemies; they all jumped back, trying to find a literal backstabber.
  “Wait a minute…we’re both couples. Doesn’t that make our ‘enemies’… a little more clear?"
  Devan looked at Jillian, wishing she hadn’t said that, that Matt was joking, that this was a dream. But wishes gave him nothing.
  Jillian had made Devan enemies with Tony and Tara. ‘This was just supposed to be an overnight party.’ Devan thought. ‘Not a real life-friggin’ Clue.’
  The two pairs went separate, Devan hating himself for doing so. They had an invisible line down the middle, their minds told them friend from foe. Like animals, they would have to rely on instincts and resources for survival.
                                    ***********************
    Tony and Tara were preparing to barricade their room with drawers. Tara pointed out it may trap them, but Tony said he’d break down the walls to get out if he had to.
  Tony was downstairs, grabbing as much beer, the only available drink, as he could hold. Before Devan got his share.
  Tara was trying to implement a bathroom system to keep from going outside. Forget the smell, Tara would rather smell like shit than die.
    Tara, too, could ‘hear shadows.’
  Hey, girly girl.
      Tara thought she was going mad and didn’t respond.
    Girly girl……ANSWER ME AND RESPOND!
    Tara couldn’t help but feel the voices’ force and intent. She tried to disregard it and continue working.
    UNLESS YOU WANT TO BE KILLED LIKE MATHEW I SUGGEST YOU…
  “What?!” She burst.
  The voice laughed darkly and inwardly.
Good girly girl. Know who the killer is?
  “…..no….”
  I hear its Devan. The other girly girl’s boyfriend.
“No…but…we’re……friends……”
    Ha ha ha ha…..no one is friends in here. In here, you’re all fair game. It really gets to you. Makes you restless. Makes you psycho.
    Tara dropped her work so she could grab her head, like her hands could keep her brains from fleeing in terror. She didn’t know what was going on, but if Devan killed Matt, he needed to turn himself in.
    She thought of a plan. If she pretended she was the killer, Devan may react in a way that proved his crime. The plan felt perfect to Tara, and then she planned on how she would go about it.
  Tony came back with beer. He set them on the bed, drinking one. The alcohol masked the situation under good feelings.
  Tara set her makeshift toilet in the closet and walked up to Tony, She was scared out of her mind and just wanted to sleep, sleep forever with Tony. They hadn’t done anything that suggested a relationship in too long a while. She moved the beer to the ground and winked at Tony suggestively.
    The euphoria that followed not only pleasured Tara, it gave her the opportunity to put her plan into action. After the fact, Tony fell asleep, like always, and Tara put on a black coat, Tony’s jacket. With the stealth of a cat, she opened the door and went downstairs to the kitchen. A knife, false in intent but true in appearance, found its way to her hand.
  She took a breath.
She made her fist as tight as possible and punched the television with force she didn’t know she had. The glass shattered and Tara could barely keep from grunting in pain. Her voice was unmistakable.
    The noise was a success and Devan’s door was opening. Tara quickly hid her face in the jacket and held the knife as threateningly as possible. She could see, though barely, and made her way up the stairs.
                                  **************************
  The shattering T.V. startled Devan who was soothing himself into a petrified sleep. He shot up, startling Jillian, who was already asleep, and they peered out the door.
  A mysterious figure draped in black walked up to them, knife in hand. Devan had a deep feeling before he even opened the door that the killer would find him, but even still his heart seemed to drown in its own blood.
  The killer shot out his arm and pried the door open.
“This can’t be happening…..this can’t be happening…” Devan said to himself, as if it would help.
    (Say a little more….)
The killer stalked into the room, the mere sight of him a threat to life.
  The killer jumped a little forward and Devan lunged for the empty space to his right, aiming to roll behind the monster. The killer was too fast, however, and turned around. The knife reflected Devan’s face inside it.
    Devan swiped one foot to the left, knocking the killer’s leg and offsetting his balance. Jillian ran out the door in his inability and Devan shut the door behind him as he left the room.
    They started to go downstairs and the killer knocked down the door. Knife in hand, he turned to the stairs. Behind him, Tony opened his door.
  The killer turned around, surprisingly reluctant, and raised a hand to his face.
Tony saw his knife and pushed the killer off the balcony. He fell to the ground with no sound and landed in a pile of shattered television glass, face-first. The only sound at all was a small grunt.
    The three stood for a moment, victorious. Jillian smiled a little in triumph and Devan walked up to the killer’s body.
    A shard of glass had pierced his chest, blood seeping like unholy water. In an urge to find out who it was, he pulled off the mask.
    And nearly vomited.
Tara’s dead face stared at Devan, eyes open, mouth in a silent and final scream. Devan felt like he was betrayed, like he betrayed her, like betrayal was everywhere.
    “Do you know him?” Tony asked. Devan’s heart sank like the Titanic.
“……it’s Tara.” He said in the quietest way possible.
    Tony’s face became ghostly pale. He ran down the stairs and looked for himself. The truth brought a rain of sadness onto Tara’s blank face. Tony grabbed the dropped knife.
  “Tony! Don’t do it! You couldn’t possibly know!”
“I killed my girlfriend! I killed Tara! I killed her! I want to see her again!”
    “Tony, there are other people who love and want you! You don’t have to do this!”
  “I have to, Devan. And if I can’t, someone else should.”
  Bang! Crack! The lights were destroyed in a flash by a projectile of some sort.
  “Your wish is my command.” Said a dark voice. Tony made a cry of pain just like Matt’s, and Devan knew he was dead.
    “Jillian! Upstairs!”
“I can’t see anything!”
    A dark laugh. They managed to fumble up the stairs, tripping over each other, but they made it to at least Tony’s bedroom.
  They blocked the door and began to breathe heavily.
“If Tara wasn’t the killer….why the hell would she pretend….then who is?” Jillian questioned slowly.
  “I don’t know, and I don’t want to. Do you have your cell phone?”
“Yeah, right here.”
  “Call Nine-One-One. We can wait here until they get here.”
Jillian typed in the simple number and held the phone up to her ear. She waited for the tone and evidently heard nothing.
  “There’s no signal.” She said in a terrified form of blankness.
“Then we got to wait the night out. We’ll be good in the morning.”
    “What makes you say that?”
“Well, he’s always in the shadows. There aren’t any in the day.”
    Jillian made the bed creak as she rolled on it. Devan found the beer by the side. They both got into bed; a feeling of dread ate them alive.
    Shadows turned to darkness, darkness to doom. The killer’s knife was heavy even when invisible. Jillian’s long black hair got into Devan’s face like a silk blanket. He stroked it; it was one of her best features.
  But Devan couldn’t hide himself in her hair. Could the killer get in? Who was he? And another thing, why on earth did Tara pretend to be him? Her accidental death was tragic, horrible, but largely unknown and questioned.
    Somehow, Devan had a nightmare while awake. (Day nightmare?) The killer burst into the room, shotgun in hand. Wait, that’s not right. He imagined a knife. Amused, he imagined an RPG, a sword, a hammer, and a chicken. He laughed out loud, immediately regretting it and fear consumed him again.
    Hello, Devan.
Devan jumped and looked around. Dear god, no, the killer.
    No, it is merely shadows.
“Shadows? Am I insane?” But he already knew the answer.
  Ha ha ha ha! No, you are simply afraid. Understandable. This room is safe. The barricades protect you.
“Thank god.”
However, there is still one-
Suddenly, Devan heard the sound of a lock being put in a door. Someone shoved open the main entrance. Devan leaped out of bed, shoved aside the door's barriers, and ran to the edge of the overpass.
  “Hey! Hey! Do you own this place?”
“Yeah, who are you? And why don’t the lights work?”
    “Sir, I can explain everything. Just wait a minute, I gotta get my girlfriend!” He ran back to his room, but heard the man at the door scream.
  ‘No….no…..so close.’ Devan thought helplessly.
“Sir?” No response. “Sir?”
    “I’m…I’m here. Get your girl and let’s get out of here.”
  “What happened?”
“I don’t know just….pain…”
    Devan saw a shadow move from the man. The killer, no doubt. Unnaturally fast it came up the stairs, towards Devan’s room.
    “JILLIAN, NO!” He tried to beat him to it but lost. He burst inside, only to faintly see Jillian asleep on the bed.
    Devan sighed in relief and nudged her.
    “Jillian, come on, we can leave. Jillian…Jillian…”
Devan felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. The man was right, that was all that really described it. He yelled and kicked out to knock him away. But he was not there.
  Something pushed him off the bed.
“Devan….”
    “Jillian, run!” His other shoulder was pierced.
“What’s going on?”
  “JUST RUN!” His leg. The killer was toying with him. What an evil game.
“Oh my god, is that a stab wound?!”
      “Jillian, run! You can leave!” He screamed in unison with his other leg.
  Jillian got up and went for the door.
  “I’ll….” But then his chest felt the pain and Devan’s words turned to mist.
                                    ***********************
      Jillian ran out the door. The darkness was no obstacle for her fear. Down the stairs. A man of about fifty was on the floor, Jillian helped him up and they left the mansion, closing the doors as tight as they could. Jillian hitched a ride to the police station, sobbing the whole way.
  An investigation took place. Put the killer on a noose, Jillian thought. She had lost her boyfriend and three of her best friends, all for a drunk party.
    Once the evidence was collected, Jillian went to find out the killer’s name.
A doctor took a swab from the knives’ handle. Jillian tensed up as he put it into a large database.
    “Says the wielder of this was a…..Jillian Monroe.” He took off his gloves. “Wait a minute! That’s you!”
  Jillian ran against her will, wanting out of here. She remembered nothing of being a killer. How could she kill all of her best friends?
  When she was gone, the evidence was tallied up. There was a call to 911 that was suddenly dropped, and the mansion was missing a knife and a shotgun.
                                  ***************************
Jillian sat on her living room floor, another knife resting in her lap.
    She cried uncontrollably. Her parents were out of town since she left and were probably notified by phone by now. How could she?
    Girly girl, you shouldn’t have denied us.
Impossible! There were no shadows!
    We aren’t shadows, girly girl. We are you. Your insanity.
“I’m not insane.”
  Ha ha ha ha ha! I suppose they never told you.
  “Told me what?”
That you’re insane.
    Shadows coursed through Jillian’s veins, grabbed the knife. The killer had one more target.
    Girly girl, you aren’t the killer at all.
The next day it was revealed Jillian had a severe case of bipolar disorder.