NDBRs: There were a few minor changes.

The Shadow

The Shadow frightened me when he didn't answer my question regarding the asylum. I sat, not a whit of patience left, and felt my demise looming closer with each breath.

"Is it death?" I asked.

It wasn't that I necessarily feared death, but I wanted to know what lay before me. My earliest childhood memories revolved around rebuilding a broken clock and picking up shards of glass and shaping the pieces into a prism. For hours I entertained myself with elongated rainbows, turning the glass so that there were dozens or merely one—and being fascinated by thick glass that could set paper on fire because the light that passed through it became hot as it was magnified.

Everything around me had a purpose whether others saw it or not. My purpose was to be god of my small kingdom, a master of creation and destruction. I knew how my world worked and death, if anything, was merely an obstacle. I admit I didn't understand the finality of the situation.

The Shadow gazed at me and frowned. "Do you understand what an asylum is, my son?"

I shook my head.

"I do."

I held my breath, the hairs on my arms standing on end. He hadn't said a word to explain this fate my mother and father had whispered and yet I feared the unspoken.

"You cannot go there willingly," he said. He reached out and clutched my arm. "Do you understand me, my boy? They will break you inside and out, bleed you, beat you, and lock you in solitude for the remainder of your life."

It sounded no different than my current experiences. This asylum didn't frighten me. It was merely moving from one corner of misery to another.

"I shall remain indoors?" I questioned. My fear was to live outdoors like an animal without shelter. Grasping what I could, I believed that my parents cared for me enough to allow me a roof—their roof, no less.

The Shadow was quiet a moment, perhaps appalled by my words. He looked at me and shook his head. "It isn't the same," he said at last. "You've far too much intelligence for the world to cast you away, child. There is music within you that would never emerge from behind those inescapable walls. For now you are able to free yourself, aren't you?"

I nodded. If nothing else, I prided myself on outwitting my parents and taking leave when I desired. The consequences didn't concern me until I returned.

"No music, no night air, no silence…silence…do you hear that, my son? The sound of crickets, a symphony in its own right. You would have none of this within the confines of an asylum. You cannot allow anyone to relinquish you to that hell."

My eyes must have bulged from their sockets. If he wanted to frighten me he had succeeded. Only the sound of my father's footsteps nearing the cellar door had ever caused my heart to beat harder, the anticipation, the inevitable bearing down upon me. At least with my father I knew what awaited me, but this was a greater fear, a heavier danger that sat upon my shoulders and settled in my gut like a boulder.

The Shadow leaned forward. "You must run far away."

I doubt he expected me to do so that moment, but that was exactly my reaction. Masks in hand, I bolted from the cemetery and ran as fast as my naked feet could carry me. Once I returned to my parents' home I discovered a candle in the cellar and knew that my father awaited my return.

Lost, confused, I sat outside the window that was my portal to the world and rested the back of my head against the house. I feared that if I allowed my father to capture me the liberties I enjoyed would swiftly come to an end. Over and over I said the word in my mind: Asylum. It sounded perverse the more I thought of it. I ran my hands down my arms and surveyed the night.

I started to hate everything familiar to me.

The world was a vast place of which I had seen little. I knew of the sea, a great, watery road that had carried adventurers for centuries. While I wandered the streets I had heard sailors speak of Italy, Germany, Africa…Persia.

I smelled my destiny in the air, the path to far corners of the globe waiting for me to simply abandon my home. My fantasy-driven mind wandered. I imagined myself traveling the earth, perhaps locating an ancient tribe where the warriors painted their faces. I could live amongst them, unafraid. I could be like them, these men. I would not be a monster lurking in darkness, a creature committed to an asylum, to hell.

Unexpectedly I was grabbed by the throat and dragged into my parents' house, my legs thumping against each stair as I was returned to my little prison…my shelter that I thought separated me from an animal.

Dazed, I didn't feel the first slap across my face. Their bars could not hold me. I was certain of it. Silent as a mouse, I endured one last bloodletting, one more bruise, one more name no parent should call their child. They would do as they desired and remain within their nameless little town in their filthy, terrible house.

I, however, would see the world. I would find my place, my tribe…my acceptance in the human race. Unfortunately, I had no idea it would take a lifetime to discover what I had fantasized that night. But I never forgot how hungry I was to obtain a worthy life, even when I was certain it would never be mine.

That night, as much as I wanted to cling to it, my father broke a part of my spirit. I did not leave his home. Not yet.

Not yet.

He would beat me in a different fashion before I could leave their domain, but even then I did not leave my familiar world willingly.