In the Shadows by R.T. Adams (little readers TXT) 📕

they retreated to other shadows. If there was no shadow they could retreat to, they were forcefully shoved into the light, in which they quickly vanished into nothingness. Rather, they were enveloped by the gates of hell. If a death fails to satisfy its hunger or if it falls into light, it is taken by the gates of hell, dragged down into hell. I have seen it only a few times, but it looks horrifying. I stood just outside of a construction zone, watching as people climbed up and simply worked. Quite the dangerous job, but people believe it’s necessary to move on in life and improve. I watched as two deaths were suddenly fighting over the soul of a portly man, who had been at the base of the place, a clipboard in hand, shouting orders. The deaths were grappling each other, trying to shove the other into the light. Each looked the same in appearance, but one was thinner. The thicker one, however, was struggling to remain in the shadow, and soon, it lost its balance, tumbling into the light. Without a care, the other death latched back onto the man, and the other, well, the other was desperately trying to grab onto the ground, but it was futile. It was soon swallowed into the depths of hell. The gates then closed, and that death was no more. I turned away and started walking off, when I saw the woman from yesterday. I just realized, none of us know the other’s name.

“Sorry that I hadn’t introduced myself,” I said to herm, “My name is Jacob Myers.”

“Elizabeth Marrow,” she said, “Why are you here and what the hell just happened to that death?”

“It was forcefully removed from its host by the other death which wished to occupy it. In other words, it was dragged down to hell because it went into the light.”

“To hell just because they went somewhere else, huh?”

“Seems unfair, but it’s just how they work. They have a job and they must strictly follow that job, otherwise, they get ‘fired’ from their job.”

“Don’t make puns,” she said.

“Sorry.”

“So that’s what happens.”

“So that’s what happens,” I repeated her. Everyone and everything has a role, and their role is to keep watch on their host and take them to either heaven, hell, or purgatory. Limbo is for those who are lost, or for those who do not have a death attached to them, and therefore, death does not take anyone into limbo.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked me.

“Don’t know, just got bored and started roaming around.” And now, I’m continuing to roam around. There wasn’t much to talk about, so we just spoke a few words and departed once more. Strangely, I felt more fatigued than usual, so I decided to head home early.

The next morning, I felt just as exhausted as yesterday. I did, however, drag myself out of bed and move on with the day. I quickly took a warm shower, found some clean clothes, ate breakfast, and left, making sure i had everything I needed with me. Even still, I felt just as exhausted as when I woke up, if not, even more exhausted. What was this feeling of losing my energy? I walked around the city, particularly to the town square, where a tall clock tower was. There were large masses of people walking around, meaning a lot of deaths, as well. I sat down at a bench and watched as they all passed by. I pulled out a cigarette and my lighter, lighting the cigarette and puffing smoke. I watched the smoke float away, up into the sky. I huffed a heavy sigh as I slid back a bit, my body sliding ever so slightly downwards, to the point which my bottom had been on the edge of the bench. I looked around, but nothing in particular caught my eye. I suppose it was due to this lack of energy that I can’t focus as well as I normally do. I finished my cigarette and snuffed it out, tossing it aside, next to the bench. I stood up, sluggishly and grunting as I did so, but surely, I was up on my two feet. There wasn’t much to do in a small city like this, so there’s no wonder some people would try stealing, but to think they’d do that in public, and to someone who has pretty much nothing on him, how dumb can someone get. Then again, it isn’t very likely anyone will step in and stop this.

“Hey you, scumbag,” I heard a rough, grizzly voice behind me and turned around. A man with a dirty white shirt, a torn black leather jacket, black jeans with the left knee torn, and leather boots stood there, a few zits on his face and a scar on his cheek. He had black hair a small flakes of dandruff floating away like snow. In his left hand, a knife. His right, well, he didn’t have a right hand.

“What do you want?” I addressed him.

“Don’t get rude with me, poncho.” Poncho? What kind of nickname was that?

“Just put the knife away, buddy. Besides, I got nothing on me other than a pack of cigarettes and a near empty lighter.” I pulled out the pack of cigarettes, which had only one left, and the lighter I had, which had hardly and fluid left.

“Oh really?” he said, jutting the knife forward in a way that he was trying to scare me.

“Really,” I said, shrugging. Nothing more than a pack and a lighter. What, can this guy not get the hint?

“Give me your jacket.”

“My jacket?” I said.

“Yeah, hand it over.”

“Bug off, bud.” I clicked my tongue. He seemed angry, but I wasn’t giving my jacket to him. After all, I’m almost entirely certain he won’t try attacking me with the knife. Almost entirely certain.

“I said give it,” he looked extremely frustrated, perhaps constipated at this point, at least by his facial expression.

“You’ve got a weird face there, sir.” I said.

“Why you,” he lifted his knife, but from behind him, a hand grabbed onto him.

“Drop it.” A husky voice. Just barely, I saw the black uniform and black hat with a badge. Saved by the police. The man dropped the knife, like instructed, and submitted to the officer’s demands.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Don’t mention it,” He said, “Just my job.”

“S’ppose so,” I said. I crossed my arms and turned, slowly walking off just as I spotted a figure. Miss Marrow. I walked over to her.

“Quite the show,” she said.

“Was that a show?”  said.

“Looked like it from here.”

“You could say that, but,” suddenly, the words stopped coming from my mouth. I hadn’t purposfully stopped, they just halted entirely.

“Hey, you going to finish that statement?” I heard her, clearly, but I couldn’t say anything. It felt as though someone was gripping my throat. The air I’d been breathing had slowly started to drain from me, as well. I fell to one knee, one hand around my throat, the other on the ground. Things were getting hazy and noises slurred. I felt someone’s hands on me, but the words were just random, unknown sounds to me. I could feel my body getting heavier and heavier. By now, I could feel the concrete on my entire body. It was, of course, hard and a bit cold, but I couldn’t lift myself up from the feeling of three hundred pounds being stacked on me. My hands were no longer moving, nor had any other parts of my body. Slowly, everything faded to darkness. I could then feel mysele leaving. Everything was darkened, but I could still see it. Below, people, gathered around one body, my own. The body that I was no longer in. I was being carried away by death. I was being sent to the one place everyone dreads. Purgatory.

Imprint

Publication Date: 03-26-2017

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
I am thankful of both Samuel Holloway and Makyla Sampson for always being there for me and being the greatest of friends I have had.