The Shadow on the wall

 The Shadow on the wall

                                                         

Houses carry echoes of their pasts. Shadows of the people that lived there before, clinging to the corners like spiders’ webs. Every creak, groan and whisper reminding you that you were not the first and assuring that you will not be the last. Olivia Smith came to Madison  Cottage as a widow. Its grey stone walls and overgrown garden greeted the weary woman with as much enthusiasm as she felt.

The nearest neighborhood was a kilometer off and they’d gotten lost twice in the twisted roads leading through the valleys. A rather grumpy-looking farmer had to give them directions, interrupted several times as he growled at the enthusiastic rottweiler dashing about his feet.

“Are you sure this is the place ?” the taxi driver asked, pushing up his cap to peer at the majestic structure.

Olivia nodded.

“Yes,” she answered dully, “This is it.”

Mark had shown her pictures of his grandparent’s old cottage in Cambridge a few times, bragging of the joyful summers he’d spent there as a child. In the pictures, a chubby-cheeked boy and his laughing grandfather played football in the garden, cheery flowers and bright sunshine warming the scene.

“What a contrast” she mumbled under her breath. Clouds rolled over the sky getting darker by the minute. The wind had picked up and rain started spattering the car windows. She opened the door, pushing against the sudden force of the wind.

The taxi driver grunted, rushing to get her bags out of the boot. She made her way to the door, extracting the heavy key from her pocket. The garden gate was off its hinge, swinging to and fro in the wind. She stepped over it, approaching an enormous black door. The knocker was made of brass, a lion’s head with a ring in its mouth.

The lock sprung open with a click, the door creaking loudly to announce her presence in the dark home. Inside all was still. Sleeping. Waiting.

She pressed her hand on the small bump in her stomach, stepping aside to let the driver bring her bags through. This was it then, she thought grimly. Their new home.

                  §

It was no better in the daylight.

After a restless night staring up at a pitch-black ceiling, screwing up her eyes to try to make up the shapes in the darkness, Olivia walked downstairs to a downcast and gloomy home. The windows were too obscure to let in any sunlight, making the house as dull as the grey skies outside. Rain fell heavily and she could hear the wind battering against the old house. She wondered if it took a little bit of the place with it each year, like the ocean waves on stone.

There was no furniture in the house aside from the old beat-up couch, a dusty bed, a few utensils, and a kettle. Thankfully, the kettle worked. The rest of her things from her house in London would be arriving that afternoon, which would go a lot into making this place home.

She stroked her stomach bump thoughtfully.

“It’s not exactly London,” she commented, “But we’ll make the best of it.”

A flutter out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and she turned.

There was only the kettle, its long shadow remaining still on the wall.

 §

The movers had come and gone, leaving her with a bulk of the boxes to sort through. They had been kind enough to take some of the out-of-date furniture away, replacing it with the pieces Olivia had brought with her from London. The crisp, white couches looked a little odd in the vintage-styled cottage from the fifties, but she had plans for improvements to be made later. It was a big job, even more so when she considered the little one on the way. Only if Mark were here…

She occupied herself instead with unpacking boxes, making time to find a place for everything. She worked steadily through the afternoon and then by lamplight as the night finally settled back in. The yellow light danced on the walls, catching the shapes of the boxes piled around her as she worked. Cookery books went to the kitchen, favorite ornaments made their way to the mantle above the fireplace and pictures were on the cabinet. She paused as she picked up a children’s book, smiling with fondness.

Peter Pan.

Mark loved Peter Pan, declaring it the book every child should know. He’d always loved the part about Peter Pans’ wilful shadow...

A sudden fluttering in the corner of her eye caught her attention again.

Olivia looked up.

There was only her own shadow, still on the wall, head tilted up and holding the shape of a book in its hands. She shook her head. How silly. She really should…

Her shadow didn’t shake its head.

Olivia stilled, raising a hand.

The shadow raised its hand too.

Olivia breathed a sigh of relief.

Then the shadow waved.

Olivia looked at her perfectly still hand.

What...?

The shadow suddenly separated from her. Walking to the other side of the room as though it had a life of its own. She watched, eyes widening and breath coming out in short, sharp gasps. She rubbed her eyes, but when she looked back, it was still moving.

The shadow was waving, clearly trying to get her attention. It still had her general shape, but that didn’t last for long! She watched as the creature shrunk and morphed into a child’s form, then floated upwards against the wall, doing a little flip and bowing to her.

“Who's there?” she cried, dropping the book in her hands, “Who's doing this?!”

There was no sound. Nothing, but the flying shadow on the wall. It changed again, this time to a bird that flew round and round, bending and stretching to meet each corner and change in the wall. Olivia screamed, practically leaping to the lamp and shutting off the light. She was left in darkness, but thankfully there were no more shadows.

§

‘It wasn’t real.’

She told herself the same thing repeatedly the next day, keeping a wary eye out for the shadow.

The light played tricks in this place, caused by the ever-changing sky. That was all it was. She had been tired, stressed, and sad. The combination, plus thinking of Mark and Peter Pan, had all caused a hallucination. “That was all”, she whispered to herself in an attempt to comfort her.

She’d almost convinced herself of the fact by the time she heard a knock on the door.

Curious, she answered and within a few minutes found herself offering tea to the local reverend and his wife. Reverend Arthur Williams a paunchy gentleman and his wife an equally plump, smiling woman.

“We’re so glad Madison has a new resident, ” Mrs. Williams said kindly, “You must let us know if you need any help at all. I can put you in contact with the local Church if you want and we offer a lot of family support at the church.”

Olivia hadn’t been to church since she was a girl.

“Thank you,” she said politely, sipping her tea, “I’m sure...“

She cut off, almost choking on her drink as she caught sight of the shadow. It had emerged from the shadows of the couple sitting in front of her. It shook its head and shifted its shape to a massive whale, swimming from side to side and guzzling fish.

Olivia managed to keep a straight face throughout the whole exchange. It was only later when the couple had left that she turned her to the shadow.

“That was rude!” she scolded it.

It transformed into a dog, head tilted, and tail tucked between its legs.

She sighed.

“No more of that, understand?” she said.

It wagged its tail.

 §

The days cleared eventually. Bright sunlight shone down, heather grew thick in the fields and Olivia could finally see more of the breathtaking landscape. Flowers were starting to bloom in the garden again and She could already see herself playing soccer there with the little one someday soon. Her mischievous shadow loved making jokes and hiding in corners.

The gloomy little cottage slowly grew brighter, and laughter filled the rooms again. Mark would have loved it.

                                                                     

                                                           ~Akshat Nayak