Fragile

The Encounter

Life has a funny way of referencing itself. When you were a kid, did you make up stories in your head, going on adventures and meeting strange new people? I did. In the world of my own creation, anything could have happened.

If a stranger had walked up to me and introduced themselves as royalty in disguise, I would have accepted it without question. Or if they had introduced themselves as an agent on a mission, I would've believed that too.

And I always took time to thank my guardian angel as a kid, because I truly believed someone out there was watching. If someone told me there was a whole other world besides our normal, boring one, I would've readily accepted that.

That is the thing about kids. Their imaginations run wild, with no boundaries between reality and fantasy. Then we kill it with logic and reality. We have a hard time accepting anything that doesn't fit into our box of what we know. Too bad. We will never know the crazy adventures we miss out on because of our refusal to believe.

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I'm telling this to you, dear listener, so that a reasonably accurate description of the events which followed may exist and be brought out when the time is ready. When people are ready to listen about the time humanity was almost enslaved in the 21st century, and life as we knew it almost ended. Almost.

It all began on the 17th of June.

Miracle's eyes sparkled with fun. Her grin lit up her face, exuding happiness. Her bubbly personality drew people to her like bees to their queen. I was proud to be her closest friend. I smiled down at her in the chair. The day was supposed to be packed. Today was her birthday, and she intended to live it up by doing all the crazy things she's always wanted to do. (Not to be confused with all the crazy things she does on a regular basis, or has already done).

She was the kind of girl who was a princess when she was little. She used to come to elementary school in a full-on gown, gloves and crown and all. That's when I fell in love with her. Not in a romantic way, but in a way that I knew I wanted to be part of this girl's life.

We left the parlor, and stepped out into the sunshine of the beautiful June day. She turned to me excitedly. "Are you ready, Sugar?" she said almost breathlessly. I smiled back at her. She knew I would be right behind her all day.

We got in the car (a beat-up 1960s Cadillac) and she turned on country music. She started singing along at the top of her lungs. I joined in, and soon we dissolved into laughter.

A couple minutes later phone rang, and she picked it up. I shot her a warning glance, but she waved me off with an brilliant smile. She was distracted, I would realize later, and wasn't paying enough attention to the road.

I don't remember anything after that. I just know that I woke up in a hospital bed, with my parents and brother beside me. They were relieved to see me. I was alive and was not permanently hurt. My wounds would leave some scars, and would need physical therapy, but Miracle was not so lucky. They told me that she didn't make it. I cried.

The rest of the day passed kind of in a blur between the shock and grief and pain medications. Except for one event, which I can remember clear as day. I kept in the trauma ward for surveillance, in case problems surfaced. The doctors said I was subject to a lot of psychological trauma and stress.

I was in my hospital bed. My eyes were closed because I was trying to get some rest.

You know that feeling, when you sense someone watching you? No matter how paranoid it may be, you're convinced your not alone? That's how I felt.

My eyes flew open and I glanced furtively around the room. No one was in the room. I closed my eyes again.

But the feeling was nagging, pulling at my consciousness. So I looked around. This time, I found something odd. My shadow was on the left wall. There was no light source to the right of me, and I was pretty sure it wasn't there before. I chalked it up to exhaustion and attempted to go back to sleep, for the third time.

"Marilyn," someone called out. It was strange, because that was my name. But I had no idea who the voice belonged to. Did I have a visitor?

"Marilyn," the same voice called. It was an imposing voice. It demanded to be heard, to be obeyed.

I turned towards the sound of the voice, and found myself to be staring at the wall with my strange shadow. If I blinked, I found that it disappeared momentarily.

"I know you can see me. You're seeing, but you're not interpreting. Truly look, and you will understand."

If I been so drugged up, maybe I would have been a little more suspicious.

"Wha-a?" I managed to mumble coherently. Exhaustion began to set in. I struggled to keep my eyes open, staring at the shadow.

The shadow peeled itself off the wall, like a sticker. It became like a three-dimensional silhouette. I wondered vaguely if I was hallucinating. What in the world was going on? Shadows didn't pop off of walls, or talk...at least I thought they didn't. Did they? I pondered this subject until I was interrupted.

"Aha! You can see me." The voice, coming from the silhouette, sounded triumphant.

"Yes?" I responded.

"I am your shadow," it announced.

"Okay?" I mumbled again, but less incoherent. I needed to sleep.

The shadow made a sound of disgust. "Man. You're on some serious drugs. Your cognitive abilities? Are a mess. This is your first contact with a shadow, and you should be way more freaked out."

"Sorry?" I responded in a confused tone.

The door squeaked open and a nurse in white entered. "Bye bye," I whispered to the strange shadow, and then giggled.

"We'll see each other again," the shadow voice whispered in my ear before I drifted off to sleep.

But the next time, the next time I encountered my shadow, it was not so pleasant.