by Chris Smith
James looked at the clock. The sound of its tick boomed in the silence of the house. Nothing moved. His heart beating and the clock ticking created the rhythm playing in the back of his mind. He turned his attention once more to his reflection. With the time now at one thirty in the morning, the clock was telling him that more than two hours had slipped by without him noticing. Two hours wasted in this stupid bathroom, James thought. I’ve blown two hours of my life examining this boring face, the face of a feeble-bodied insignificant waste of space. Out of control, his thoughts leapt back to their endless review of the day’s events. The clock ticked over the seconds as James stared absently at his face.
With a deep sigh signalling a change, James shook his head and decided to stop his self-assassination. He accepted the futility of searching for an answer. Nothing more could be done tonight. Mulling things over anymore would be pointless. There were no answers; there was no easy way to regain respect. Exhausted and unable to think anymore, he rubbed his forehead. Attempting to shake off the heaviness, he shook his head again. When that didn’t work, he closed and opened his eyes in rapid succession. With tomorrow’s problems remaining unresolved, James decided he must get some rest, no matter how little. He switched off the bathroom light. In the split second during which the room fell into darkness, something brushed across the surface of his right eye and startled him. The eerie sensation was similar to walking through a spider’s web, except that whatever it was had brushed only the surface of his eye, not his face. James switched the light back on. Failing to rub away the intrusion, he pulled his eyelid down. He then lifted the lid and examined under the flap of skin. When his search proved fruitless, he did the same with the bottom lid before rolling his eyeballs. He found nothing, and yet his eye felt wrong.
‘Hell, where is the flipping thing? He assumed a speck of dust must have flown into his eye.
However, the bathroom appeared to be spotless. His mum cleaned the room meticulously most days. James considered his mum’s obsession with hygiene to be her oddity. The room stank of overused disinfectant, which filled the house for hours after one of her cleaning sprees.
Bemused, James wondered if he had been imagining things. Something had definitely brushed his eye…or had it? He rolled his eyes over a final time. Everything seemed normal, and yet, something still seemed different about his right eye. His uneasiness remained, compelling him to continue examining his eye. On finally realising the source of his discomfort, James’ eyes sprang open, stretching wide in disbelief. It was impossible, inexplicable and terrible: the light behind both of James’ eyes had gone!
The truth was unavoidable. His eyes had turned into lifeless, empty shells. They still functioned as before; they could still see, but they were dull, empty and despondent. James moved his eyes from side to side in the faint hope that he had made a mistake. But he hadn’t. All trace of the light and sparkle within them had gone. He wanted to cry, but no tears appeared; he wanted to shout, but he felt so feeble. The discovery had left him hollow, with nothing inside to let out.
Over his right shoulder in the mirror, something moved. A dark shadowy thing appeared to be behind him. James swung his head around: nothing there. He turned back. The dark outline next to his own seemed only to be in the mirror and not in the room. The shape had a certain familiarity, but James took a few moments to identify it. When the realisation struck, he let out a gasp.
The shape in the mirror was his shadow! Powerful like a giant, fierce as a dragon, the dark figure’s aura resembled that of a blood-sucking vampire. The shadow held in its hand a brilliant diamond of light. It let out a laugh of pure evil. Disbelief washed across James’ face. He knew without question that the Shadow had stolen the missing light from behind his eyes. Quite helpless, James watched the Shadow run deep into the depths of the mirror, receding out of sight.
‘No, stop! Thief!’ James screamed, unable to smother his desperation. The outburst reverberated in the silence of the house. He clasped his hand across his mouth. He felt sick to his stomach, partly because he was afraid he may have woken his parents, but mostly because deep inside, he knew the Shadow had stolen something precious, something impossible to replace. He pressed his hands against the mirror, resting his forehead on the glass. Suddenly a familiar voice, one he thought he would never hear again, spoke to him.
‘Hello James.’ The strange figure he’d seen in the doctor’s waiting room and then again at assembly, appeared to his left in the mirror. The man’s face was still hidden.
‘Is that you Grandpa?’ But…it can’t be, James thought. At night in his room, James sometimes pretended his grandfather was still alive, and the two of them would talk together for hours, just as they used to do. James had forgotten the mellow tones and the soothing effect of the old man’s voice.
‘Grandpa?’
‘Ah, yes and no.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘If it helps for now, let’s just work with yes.’ Grandpa pulled down the collar of his coat. Sparkling eyes met those of his grandson. James wanted to hug him; he wanted to touch his face, to smell that familiar scent of pipe tobacco. But all he could do was place his hand on the reflection of the old man’s face in the mirror. Quite strangely, despite the cold touch of the glass, James could feel the warmth of Grandpa’s presence in the room, as if he were standing beside him.
‘The Shadow, Grandpa, did you see him? He stole my eyes.’
Grandpa stared into James’ eyes. ‘Not your eyes, James. He stole the light, the life shining in them. Oh yes, I saw him.’
James smiled. He hadn’t forgotten a single wrinkle of Grandpas’ old worn face, nor his eyes, both fascinating and bewildering. His grandfather’s face was still as wise and serene as he remembered it.
‘What’s happened?’ James asked.
‘Didn’t you see him with your light?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you know.’
‘But how?’ James stammered.
‘Examine your eyes again James, closely. Take your time.
James studied his pupils as a thousand questions buzzed in his mind. He wanted to talk, to tell him the events of the day. However, although he needed Grandpa’s advice, this business with his eyes and the treacherous Shadow were far more important. James concentrated on doing what his grandfather had suggested. His eyes appeared to be the same as earlier. The light was gone from within them; they were devoid of any flicker of life, robbed of all feeling, just dead empty shells. James kept searching with no idea of what he would find, not sure that he wanted to discover anything more. There was a distinct probability that worse was yet to come, but Grandpas’ instruction compelled him to continue.
‘Can you see it yet my boy?’ he asked.
‘No. Yes. Yes, I can see it!’ Like a broken pane of glass, the surface of his eyes appeared to have been shattered into a million fragments.
‘Well, there you have it. Unbelievable, isn’t it?’ Grandpa exclaimed. ‘That’s how he does it: he brakes his way in, and then snatches the light from between those tiny gaps.’
‘But, I don’t understand. How can he do that?’ Thousands of other questions swarmed through James’ mind.
‘No time for explanations, my dear boy. We have to go. He’s on his way to find the king.’
‘King? What king?’
‘The King of Shadows. I’ll explain later. For now you need to do exactly as I say.’
The idea of a King of Shadows sounded like utter nonsense to James. But then again, here I am talking to my dead grandfather in a mirror, he reasoned. He would have laughed at the thought before today. In fact, if he were to tell anyone else about the events of the evening, they would lock him up in a crazy house for sure.
‘Trust me James. Look into my eyes.’ Grandpa’s eyes swirled and danced like the stars of the Milky Way.
On the edge of James’ vision, he saw a huge thundercloud drift into sight. The darkness of the cloud slowly engulfed everything in the mirror, gr
adually smothering James’ reflection and the image of his grandfather.
‘Keep looking at my eyes, James. Don’t look at anything else. James, look into my eyes! You must do what I say, James! James!’
Provoked by the icy chill of fear, goose bumps surfaced across James’ skin. But he was oblivious to the sensation. Nor could he hear the sound of his breathing growing heavier, or the creaking of the house as it cooled in the night. The darkness in the mirror blocked out everything and filled his eyes with black. He struggled to swallow. Unable to maintain his focus on Grandpa’s eyes, James became weak and his legs began to buckle.
‘Here,’ he heard a faint whisper, ‘follow me.’ But he was unable to respond. He started to fall, but two dark hands reached out and grabbed him. The powerful arms pulled him into the mirror. Unable to resist, he fell into the blackness, plummeting down into the mirror’s darkness. James wondered if death was calling him. He wondered if he was about to expel his last breath on this earth.
Chapter Five: The Choice