Part I
Strains of toxic light filtered a stream above my head. As I flickered it on and off, my thumb motions its switch until turned sore. Ears twitch to the chiming crackles of rain pattering on the car window, with no characteristic of being gentle, an essence so melodic and blue. The sounds of its voice and the constant presence of yellow blaring out, my muscles relax, comforted through a long stress and burning my eyes from the dark and bright instance. The flashlight exhausted by such energy lost luster to its core, dimming down and bound for death. Everything around me became murky, deep drownage of mood. My anxiety grew.
Hands clasp together as a natural reaction to the sudden change. I had fallen so short of myself to the point that I'm afraid to enter the building. It's not like they're strangers; I know them not as friends but as associates. It's rather perplexing on why they would even invite me, seeing as I'm not a social kind of guy. It's pathetic that I can't arrive at a party without being exhausted beforehand. Now everything's tensing up and my stomach's rolled up in dough.
But, regardless, I had already come, my decision final. I carried on myself and entered the event.
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My body swiftly passes through the building. A sign displays Casinopolis, all other words below it way to blurry to interpret.
The air smelled of raw gasoline for some strange reason. My head traces back to the time a spill occurred on the Ark. I don't know why there was gas in the first place, I being too young to recall clearly.
But nevertheless, the place reeked of sick gas. I feel nauseated.
Upon entering the gathering, I turn to a few familiar faces. Honestly, when I don't see them in a long time, I start to forget what they look like, facial features a mere blob that gives me a migraine in an attempt to uncover. But, once I encounter them again, and close my eyes, it's all I can see.
What were their names again?
Sonic, of course. No one can forget him.
The weird fox-kid freak of nature. Never talked to him in my life.
The red guy; he creeps me out, being way to angry and serious all the time. Don't care for him.
Amy... Something. I don't know. She looks so miserable and ill, staring at Sonic from across the room. What's up with that?
The there's Rouge which I semi-know. But then again, she's just an ally. Nothing more.
I'd rather not make myself personal to these people, grateful that I don't care. If I actually did, well, that would be too stressful. It's so ironic how I find myself here, as if I actually do take in consideration for their approval, appreciate their lives and opinions, but the truth be told is I don't. I just don't. How bitterly ironic.
How did I end up here anyway? It's rare for me to be in these situations. There was someone who convinced me, who did it without even realizing it, a girl by the name of Sarah I met a few months ago. It was such a brief encounter, her hair the bright carrot color of an auburn sweet, but her face a complete blur. My eyes only focused on her hair really. She talked a lot, that's for certain, I doing most of the listening as she rambled about her life. It's difficult to recall the specifics of it all. I just smiled, hoping she'd leave.
But Sarah told me I reminded her of an old man. My appearance portrays a young, teenage youth so this troubled me. As much as I didn't want it to, I couldn't resist the annoyance of it. That statement eventually brought me to my decision.
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Memories are an addiction. Click, click, click, and I view a projector. One picture, then the next, and so on and so forth.
I greet some of my associates, walking over to the food and reserving myself. Upon eating, I'm eventually presented to the group at a large table. They're playing cards, fox-boy shuffling the deck. My ears jerked to the ruffles, colliding up and down, split into two pairs separate, and stacked from their ends, coming together as the process began all over again. Even after being asked, I refuse to participate. My energy's so drained.
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"Shadow, if you ever go down to earth, promise me you'll make lots of friends."
"I don't even know if I'll ever go down there.
"Just promise me that, because that's what I want. Alright?"
"Okay Maria. Okay Maria."
"Good, good."
Shift, shift.
"Shadow, if you ever go down to earth, promise me you'll make lots of friends.
"I don't even know...."
Shift, shift, shift.
"Shadow, let's run on the Ark because I love to running. And we'll race. Race until our lungs fill to capacity, until our hearts burst to flood. There are some days I love everything that I'm so happy it's as if my whole heart will truly crack open and fly. But, then there are others I wish I was someone else, that I'm so sick of myself that remember the stars, Shadow? They gleam and smile in the darkness and to their motherly moon. Don't forget them, their everlasting beauty, Shadow, when you go down to earth. They will miss you. The stars love you Shadow. I love you."
"I love you too."
She hugs me which lasts for a few minor seconds. To me, it's an eternity.
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They're still playing that absurd game. How long is this going to take? I want to go home.
Sonic's blabbing, mostly talking about himself, and he won't shut up. His voice makes me cringe, screeching in my ear as a mosquito irritation. The words he's saying are so pompous. Driven by such detestation, what makes me so disgusted with him?
"And after that I saved the day, everyone almost died but I saved them and Tails got into his plane and beat Eggman to the ground thanks to me. Of course I won! Why would you even question that? It's okay, no hard feelings. Don't deny it, I'm awesome! It was me who did it. Wasn't it great? I don't care what they say, I'm the best. They're the one with the problem, I'm amazing. They just need to get a life and shut up. Yep, I win again, as usual."
My lips curled, snarling at such arrogance and insolence. His words made me want to vomit; vomit up poison, the worst kind I've ever known.
I just don't get you. I just don't get anything anymore. Where's any of your humble? Why do I sound angry? Because I am! It irritates me to the core. It shouldn't but it does. What makes you so special, so amazing and the star to every aspect in life? I just don't get it, this ego, how you got fixed in such a state of mind. The mediocrity, the spectrum of the crowd, it aggravates me so much.
Why am I yelling? I don't know; maybe the poison's making me say things I'd rather not, picking at and criticizing. You want some truth about the world I'll give you truth. Society, all your peers surrounding at whim, expects others to act a certain way, be a people pleaser, placed perfectly fit in the crowd. With such expectations, your world starts to collide on top of you, the introvert deemed as strange. I'm not a people pleaser, longing to find my placement without the influence of others. My own sense refuses to become an egomaniac. I must be strange.
Wait, did I say that out loud? My associates nod. Where did that come from? I'm sorry. Please don't bother with my stupidity. I'll just leave.
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I rush over to the bathroom; face a complete pale and the tint of a ghostly demon, the ones found in a child's nightmare lingering within corners of shadows. Faint voices of the others laughing filtered the distance. Are they talking about me? About what I said out there?
Realization struck my head. From what happened out there, I couldn't connect with them. It's shameful how that's the case. My utter display was so distant, pitiful even, making my skull whirl as a merry-go-round, gradual and never ceasing. The jokes they said weren't humorous, their stories either interesting or amusing. Every time they spoke my head turned to blank, vague and swirling. It felt so bizarre, knowing that I was weird.
They're not my friends. Associates more over. I'm just the outcast.
I keep hearing laughing. Mister Ghostly Demon is taunting me. Stop doing that! I know I'm crazy!
With one hand clenching onto the sink, I check my reflection and slump, submitting to the ongoing jaded thoughts that lead to such a bitter fall. Landing on my face, I've forgotten where I am for a moment, disconnected from the world around me and fainting upon exhaustion.
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Rain crackled on the car roof, the windows, all around the exterior. I paced along its backseat, as if searching for something hidden in the blue, but that wasn't the case. It's an attempt to cure my anxiety, all away from the rear, to front, and then repeat. The atmosphere brought such a gloomy dark, flooding a wavering stoic remembrance and a dry taste in my mouth. Shivers down my spine proceeded, allowing me to settle on the car seat to relax.
Suddenly, I hear an eerie pounding, distinguished towards the window of the car door. Peering up from my stance, I discover an old woman causing such disruption, drenched from the rain and eyes swollen a strawberry hue. I came upon noticing her rotted teeth, a bright yellow as corn in the mouth and grey hair concealed in the midst. She rammed those wrinkled fists to the glass; a whiny moan blustered to signify such distress in her bulgy eyes. As skeptical as the occurrence appeared, I open the entrance regardless of such.
"Can I help you?"
"You're going to die!"
"Umm, what?"
"You heard me! At 12:36, tonight!"
Baffled at such an accusation, I presented a puzzled look. "Excuse me?"
"Oh, come on! Haven't you ever had someone die in your life?"
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You said you loved me. Then why are you abandoning me?
Eyes were locked onto her. The bullet had punctured her chest, trailing down the seams of her dress as crimson-cherry branches traveling to my feet. The red thick substance had me taste her rapid virus, as if bonded, confronting the worse instance of nonconformity and truth; the most bitter truth I've ever perceived.
The way those two elements mingled together; the blood caressing against her soft face and golden hair didn't make sense in the least. The smile on that child used to glow at every expression of hope, but now look at her - somber and grim, breaching for a single ounce of life. I'm horrified.
"Shadow, I want you to . . . ."
Oh, not that again.
"Promise?"
That's not possible, Maria. I can no longer make you happy.
"Make them happy."
They hate me! Don't you get it? These people are here to kill me.
"I don't understand. Why are they going berserk?"
They're possessed by an unnecessary fear brought into frenzy. Humans are so ridiculous that way. They'll transition to such savagery just to be a survivor, to relinquish panic and dread. They chose an entity - me- used that to design a villain, and exposed a terror erupting sheer corruption for those innocent. You Maria! Don't you get it? You're dying because of them. You're dying because of me.
"Can't you stop them, Shadow? Save us all?"
They have free-will. Humanity chose to be flawed. It's part of their nature.
The worst part about it, and I say this with his aggravating voice in my head, is that flaunted pride to their accomplishments, that dreaded ego used to boost oneself as if they deserve such praise. But, it just makes them consumed in a bubble of their own inferior perspective, represented higher than a tower people go along with. Even heroes are the center of their own universe.
"I prefer to not believe that. I think there's good in everyone."
Tempted by sin, people are barbaric no matter what you believe, as well as mediocre. Losing a sense of heart and mind, people are morphed demented. Don't you get it, Maria? This is why you're dying. Why can't you accept that?"
"......Shadow, make them happy."
This is impossible. I can't convince you. You do realize I'm just as damaged as everyone else. Why me? I'm no better than the soldiers.
'Why question it? You can never love this world if you fail to love humanity. That's seems easy enough to understand. You can't love yourself in that way either. You'll never love a creator without loving its creations. And last, but certainly not least - you can't love Maria without loving humanity. You make life miserable for yourself. Glance at the mirror again. What a hypocrite you've become. A great failure and fool. What a disappointment you are.'
Why do I feel so sick?
"Shadow, make them happy."
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"Hey! Why're you so quiet? Anwser my question! Haven't you ever had anyone die in your life?"
I come out of my daze. "Umm, yes."
"Well, guess what! You're time is almost up!"
Eyelids blink a few times as I rubbed the back of my neck. "Umm, yeah. Sure thing lady," I responded with such doubt in my tone.
She gives a brief nod, shutting the door and fleeing the car's presence.
Somehow, my head becomes light-headed, apprehensive by the woman's words. The top of my brain felt as if it could float, body becoming heavy and sinking. I lie down again, listening to the sprinkling droplets much more closely to hopefully clear my rapid thoughts.
Hey look! A flashlight.
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At first, what she told sounded completely absurd, just a crazy old hag with a brain made of strings. Why is it now I'm thinking otherwise, that I'm actually taking in consideration to her words? How did I get here in the first place? Was I invited? Well, that doesn't make sense. I'm not part of their group. What's up with that?
They certainly made me feel like an idiot. Why do I feel like they're the ones with the problem? Somehow, I don't think I'm doing anything. I feel like a victim when I shouldn't. Perhaps this is a plan, a whole conspiracy to rid me from this world. It's so obvious. Just like what happened on the Ark, I'm clashed by déja vu and the images of soldiers. Someone's trying to kill me. The warning from the old woman was a blessing, a gift to avoid such a fate. Someone's trying to kill me.
Now I'm just being a fool. Have I truly fallen so short of myself? Would I really drop so low to believe such notions?
Although, what time is it? Anywhere close to 12:36? Passed it maybe?
I hear the crowd behind the rigid door laugh in their merry gathering.
What's so funny? Me? Huh, what? Stop thinking that! You're being ridiculous.
Why am I breathing so heavy? It's time to lift myself up. Eyes widen. I stare at my reflection upon elevating, my face appearing feeble and lifeless. Making a curled fist, I jab at myself with full force, glass clattering and shards tumbling to pieces.
I notice sprinkles of tiny spots of blood on my knuckle seep through the skin. At sight of such a color, my head starts to
"Shadow, promise me, make them happy and the stars miss you and when you go down to earth make lots of friends."
One sight of blood brings blood to her brow.
I'm impossible.