The extra shadow
Once there lived a young boy who was just like me and you, with only one minor difference. He has two shadows instead of one. Oh, you must think now, certain plays of the light causes two shadows for anyone. Why, you say, I can see 4 shadows of cricketers when they play in the stadium at night, illuminated by those 4 powerful lights on each corner of the stadium. But they are all lighting effects. The shadow of the boy is no lighting effect. He possesses two shadows, one likened to the rest of us and the other strong and black unlike any that we would have seen. The shadow that this boy has, does not diminish even in the presence of sunlight. Instead it remains with him for ever. Oh, and how proud he is of his extra shadow. He would show it off to everybody. The proud black silhoutte mimicking his every move.
And many admired it. Some worshipped it. But not every one cared for it. In fact, he found a very vitriolic opponent in Shamus who called him a devil. Shamus even managed to turn some of his friends and neighbours against the little boy saying he was the incarnation of Satan and not to be trusted. The boy would look at him, seething rage just waiting to explode. But there was nought he could do about it.
One particular day, the boy while waiting for his transportation to school, was suddenly surrounded by a bunch of boys much meaner and tougher than he. They taunted him and called him the devil. They mocked his shadow and laughed at him for thinking he was all the more great because of it. They jeered at him till he could take it no longer. He ran off to his room and thought aloud to himself, "I wish you dead, shamus. I wish you would die in writhing pain." He thought of nothing but shamus's death the whole day. At night when he went to sleep, he dreamt he was killing shamus.
His mother and father worried at the young boy's sudden sullenness. At night they would tip-toe to his room and see him silently snoring away with his shadow now immersed in the blackness of the room. They wished he would smile and laugh again, showing off his extra shadow once again.
The news next morning stunned everybody. Shamus was found to be hacked into two discrete pieces. The top portion of his body, slashed cleanly from the left shoulder to the his right hip was found to be lying on one side of the ground while the other half lay a little distance away. The mortifying news rang throughout the village and everyone was scared of this new terror that had come to their village. They blamed the general lack of interest in godly matters as the reason for this new terror. But the little boy knew that it was his hate that had killed Shamus.
He was guilty of Shamus's murder and his conscience got to him like a sharp stab to his chest. If he was sullen just a few days back, now he was brooding and grieving. He became more silent and sad than ever. He stopped showing off his shadow to people. He would simply sit in his room, lights all switched off so that he could not see his extra shadow. The object of his pride was now merely a reminder of his guilt. He started hating himself and his shadow instead of Shamus now. He started wishing his shadow would disappear forever.
His parents, after a year of anxiety now started to get really worried. They admonished him for his gloomy behaviour and told him to get out sometimes and see the world. But he would just sit in his room brooding. Then finally, one day, they coaxed him so much that he decided to go out, just this once. Once Out, he felt the soft breeze whissing through his hair and the sun shining at his feet. Oh, how much he missed all these. He started feeling better. He started whistling tunes and became happier all the more. He thought out aloud, "I have been for too long brooding and crying and for what? Just because I was too proud of my shadow who is nothing but just a slave of mine. I will no more be a slave to the flattery. Instead, I will try getting flattery for the right reasons. From today, I will start feeling proud of myself. I shall bec..." And he looked on the ground while uttering these words, he suddenly noticed that his shadow had changed. It was no more mimicking him. It still retained his shape but it had something in its hand. Something that resembled a scythe. The last thing the boy saw was the shadow raising its scythe up over its head.
Once there lived a young boy who was just like me and you, with only one minor difference. He has two shadows instead of one. Oh, you must think now, certain plays of the light causes two shadows for anyone. Why, you say, I can see 4 shadows of cricketers when they play in the stadium at night, illuminated by those 4 powerful lights on each corner of the stadium. But they are all lighting effects. The shadow of the boy is no lighting effect. He possesses two shadows, one likened to the rest of us and the other strong and black unlike any that we would have seen. The shadow that this boy has, does not diminish even in the presence of sunlight. Instead it remains with him for ever. Oh, and how proud he is of his extra shadow. He would show it off to everybody. The proud black silhoutte mimicking his every move.
And many admired it. Some worshipped it. But not every one cared for it. In fact, he found a very vitriolic opponent in Shamus who called him a devil. Shamus even managed to turn some of his friends and neighbours against the little boy saying he was the incarnation of Satan and not to be trusted. The boy would look at him, seething rage just waiting to explode. But there was nought he could do about it.
One particular day, the boy while waiting for his transportation to school, was suddenly surrounded by a bunch of boys much meaner and tougher than he. They taunted him and called him the devil. They mocked his shadow and laughed at him for thinking he was all the more great because of it. They jeered at him till he could take it no longer. He ran off to his room and thought aloud to himself, "I wish you dead, shamus. I wish you would die in writhing pain." He thought of nothing but shamus's death the whole day. At night when he went to sleep, he dreamt he was killing shamus.
His mother and father worried at the young boy's sudden sullenness. At night they would tip-toe to his room and see him silently snoring away with his shadow now immersed in the blackness of the room. They wished he would smile and laugh again, showing off his extra shadow once again.
The news next morning stunned everybody. Shamus was found to be hacked into two discrete pieces. The top portion of his body, slashed cleanly from the left shoulder to the his right hip was found to be lying on one side of the ground while the other half lay a little distance away. The mortifying news rang throughout the village and everyone was scared of this new terror that had come to their village. They blamed the general lack of interest in godly matters as the reason for this new terror. But the little boy knew that it was his hate that had killed Shamus.
He was guilty of Shamus's murder and his conscience got to him like a sharp stab to his chest. If he was sullen just a few days back, now he was brooding and grieving. He became more silent and sad than ever. He stopped showing off his shadow to people. He would simply sit in his room, lights all switched off so that he could not see his extra shadow. The object of his pride was now merely a reminder of his guilt. He started hating himself and his shadow instead of Shamus now. He started wishing his shadow would disappear forever.
His parents, after a year of anxiety now started to get really worried. They admonished him for his gloomy behaviour and told him to get out sometimes and see the world. But he would just sit in his room brooding. Then finally, one day, they coaxed him so much that he decided to go out, just this once. Once Out, he felt the soft breeze whissing through his hair and the sun shining at his feet. Oh, how much he missed all these. He started feeling better. He started whistling tunes and became happier all the more. He thought out aloud, "I have been for too long brooding and crying and for what? Just because I was too proud of my shadow who is nothing but just a slave of mine. I will no more be a slave to the flattery. Instead, I will try getting flattery for the right reasons. From today, I will start feeling proud of myself. I shall bec..." And he looked on the ground while uttering these words, he suddenly noticed that his shadow had changed. It was no more mimicking him. It still retained his shape but it had something in its hand. Something that resembled a scythe. The last thing the boy saw was the shadow raising its scythe up over its head.
posted by Rivas at 11:51 PM
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