Okay, just for you to know- the beginning and end are in a mystery persons POV, with the middle being Duncan's. I have finished reading 'The Book Thief'. I have decided that maybe this story would go good with a little bit like that.

I was planning on having a mystery character for a long time now- I just have not announced it until now. Cool, huh? Yes, I'm glad you agreed.

So without further ado, here is 'The Shadow, Chapter 3.'

…

The Shadow

Chapter 3

The Past of a Shadow

"Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow."- Thomas Campion

My name is not needed, my identity a minor. I'm just your simple story teller, who set out to find out about what he witnessed.

All stories have a beginning. As all life has a start, this tale must have one too. But I want you to know one little detail- this isn't a story. It's a crime- a shameful waste of your time.

It's not much, just a tiny one really. With a few small characters as well:

-A man who had everything and nothing

-A very curious Goth

-A gorgeous boy with a heart of black

-Two crazy fraternity boys

-A surfer who saw more than waves

-And a girl who mattered to someone more than here and beyond.

I never really did care for popularity. Yet whenever I recall this story all eyes are on me, all ears open to my voice. So here is my chance to grab your attention, to show off.

This crime is within its self. It's a scary one- a romance, and a melancholy.

***

I saw the shadow five times.

***

The cold floor felt like ice against my skin, yet I couldn't manage a shiver. Much too used to the feeling, it was the warmest I would be all night. The new kid wasn't as familiar with the temperature in here. His whole body shook beneath the orange jump suit, his teeth beginning to chatter. He whispered, "Don't they ever turn up the heat in here?"

I sighed. "They never do, kid. They never will." In other words, get used to it, you idiot. My mind drifted back to what used to be, when I was warm, when I was free. When I was sad. When I was lonely, just as I was in here.

I wanted to have a family when I grew up. To get married, be a husband. I wanted to be a Dad.

At age twenty now, as rich I could be, standing here in jail for drug smuggling, I had yet to get anything that I wanted.

Key's rattled as the guard stomped down the cell hall. To my surprise, he stopped at my cell. "Are you Duncan?" He said roughly, his voice husky. All I could manage was a nod. "How does a rich man like you end up in here? Why do you wanna waste your life on something so stupid?"

I continued to shake my head, except this time from side to side.

He clicked his tongue. "You're free to go."

I wasn't happy as I threw on my old clothes, walked out the cell door, filed down the street. I had been in there for almost a year. What was I supposed to do now? Where was I supposed to start again? I had left off from my first year of college- and now I wasn't even enrolled anymore.

Of course, with the boatload of money I had, I did have a place to stay. A place, but nothing to do. I looked around as if shying for something to occupy the load of free time I had.

One of my old buddies from high school had been able to get me a job at his uncle's mechanic shop down in a small town called Greenhill. No, it was not going to make me money- but that wasn't the point. I needed something to make me feel as if life was worth living again.

Life could have gone on a year ago- but I was sad. It seemed better to stay in jail than stay in a mansion with no one and live a melancholic life.

Things went on, I went on with them. Then the day came.

My Mohawk had been fairly messy that day. The day when I wore my black jacket to cover to my crazy hair.

The day I saw her.

It had started out fairly normal, I went to work, repaired a few cars. I was working on someone's old Buick, under the hood. Then something pulled in, actually, was pushed in from behind by two men, a small silver Saturn. I hadn't seen one of those in a while.

Then someone popped out of the driver's seat. It was a girl.

Her onyx eyes were filled with worry, her freckles scrunched up in her frown. She looked at the car, her eyebrows furrowing. "Can you repair it?" She was biting her lip so hard it looked as if it would bleed.

Frank shook his head. "I'm sorry Ms. Meeks- this car is done for. It actually went a little longer than I thought it would."

Ms. Meeks. Not Mrs. Just Ms. For some reason- I felt good about this.

"Do you have any suggestions?" She looked at the car as if it was scrap metal. Crap, she had gotten over that fast. "I mean, I know this car wouldn't have been good in a wreck. I just used it to the get back and forth from my dorm. But now that I have a job…" So she was in college. Had a dorm room. And also had a job.

Frank nodded as he grinned widely. "Any of those safe one's you see on the commercials, sweetie." The gray haired man then noticed the cocking of her brow and stopped smiling. "Um, just give me a call when you think you might have found one you wanted."

"Why don't you just call me when you've found one that you think I might want?" She swiped out a small piece of paper which appeared to be no larger than a sticky note. "My card."

Frank cocked his head to the side. "Courtney Meeks- Psychiatrist? Ms. Meeks- I'll have you know that I'm in no need of that type of help." He put a finger to his head.

She sighed. "Of course you don't…" Gazing at his name tag, she went back to his face to smile brightly, "Frank, but I need you to call that number as to help me." She turned and walked back outside. Then she was gone.

Frank shook his head. He turned to me. "Will you take this car to the scrap yard Duncan? And throw out this card too- no way will I be calling it anytime soon." He flicked the card my way, and I struggled to catch it.

It was a lovely card. It had blue edging with a white center. On it was a name, a number, an address.

She was pretty. She was smart. And pretty sassy.

I thought about what I wanted. About what I dreamed for. I knew she was perfect. I didn't care if I didn't know her- I would know her. I would learn everything about her, and I was crazy. I was going insane. This could be the answer. My boredom done with. My life restored.

And so it was the start. Of an obsession.

Of a Shadow.

***

Do you actually believe in yourself? Actually feel as if you can succeed in life? Well, at the time, I would suggest that you stop it. Because believing is for people who actually have something to believe in, and once you lose everything, there's nothing to believe anymore. All you do is want. All you want is what you don't have. What you possibly can't have.

This was probably the reason I was sitting patiently in my seventh car. My favorite, and, after watching for a few weeks, I suspected it to be hers.

I wonder sometimes about what I'm doing. If I'm doing the right thing. My mind flickered many times to the idea of turning the vehicle on and riding away. I never get father than that. Once I set my mind to something, I do it. And I finish it.

The steps quietly tromped on the metallic stairwell, revealing the object of my obsession herself. Her face was a bit scrunched up, eyes red. Sleep was needed, although she didn't know. Handbag opened, she rifled through for a moment. I felt my eyebrows furrow. When was she going to go? To leave, so I could follow her?

Drop went the keys, to me went her eyes. Had she seen me? Through these windows? Not possible. Her legs pranced over to the car, eyes roaming in a child like way. Then I got it- she was looking at the vehicle.

Her hands behind her, as if instinct, her eyes out. Wide onyx traveled across the car in amazement. She kept on for about five minutes, while I admired every feature from inside. The curiosity in her large black orbs. Then sophistication she held herself high with even when no one was looking. The beauty she walked about with, and the oblivious stare she gave me which let me know she had not yet seen me.

Her glance went to the side of the car, probably noticing the skull. I chuckled softly when I saw her nose scrunch at this. I could just imagine what was going through her mind. How immature, she would think. Glad you like it, Courtney.

Then she looked at the windows. She stared in an intent way that apparently caused me to think she had spotted me. I put my hands on the wheel, and, not wanting to startle her with the horn- I blinked the headlights a few times. She yelped- a sound which made even me cringed- and put a hand to her mouth, as to stop from shouting.

As she looked back at the car, I realized she possibly hadn't seen me. She possibly had only been looking at the windows. The surprised look on her face amused me. I couldn't help but smirk. Could she see me now? I hoped. I wanted her to see me- but yet wanted to stay hidden.

In an attempt to keep myself unidentified, I was off. I started the car and zoomed, seeing her appalled face in the rearview mirror.

And now she was scared. Now she had a reason to worry.

Now I had a reason to be even more careful.

***

This was only his first mistake of many.

And, most definitely, not the worst.

No, the worst was far, but oh-so close.

A human being is only breath and shadow. - Unknown

…

Yes! I got it out!

This person, telling a story at the beginning and end, who are they?

And now, we have a piece of Duncan's thought! Finally!

And now, I leave you wanting more, my dear friends.

R&R… the next chapter is no confirmation! If you have idea who the person may be, say it! If you have any suggestions on the story, tell them!