drama

Possessors of mysteries that no man can comprehend nor explain. They are black holes of curiosity and horror that tempt the child in me now, but as a young boy I feared the worst in every dark crevice I passed. Voids, the color of the darkest ink, that are everywhere I look. Nightmares are the only things that hold captive the creatures I found there.

Now, as a man, the shadows are my only place of solitude, my refuge in a darker world. What were once my adversaries are now my only friends in misery. I see disturbing wonders in them that I never knew were there, like the serenity only found on a bed of nails. I rely on them as I would a father. They’re my soulless guardians in a world full of what I believed to be hidden in the dark, unknown as a boy. These shadows are my terrifying family, abusing every aspect of my conscious as though I owe them, all.

In this alleyway, with my back against the cold, brick wall, I can see the world passing before me without anyone knowing I’m even here. The shadow I’m in is as thick as a mattress, allowing me to rest with my feet up and my hands behind my head. Every shadow does what I want. We have a mutual understanding; a respect that the common could never comprehend. I give them souls and they give me security. Their appetite is insatiable but the city streets offer a bottomless buffet.

Today marks 13 years of companionship with my adopted family. It’s hard to reflect on my life before now. Only faded memories of running in the park, playing with toy soldiers on our stoop and nights of stories, remain. But details are scarce. Faces are blank. I don’t even recall my parent’s names. None of that matters. They couldn’t protect me like the shadows.