The Shadow

Daniella was a serial killer and was standing right in front of Angie, a seventy-three-year- old woman. In the darkness of her mind, Daniella had a conflict on her shoulders. Why should I kill this poor old lady, after all? Do I want to kill her for protection or food?Or do I lack empathy? Maybe my emotions have gone cold and dark. Is this a true depiction of a human being within me? Daniella was having difficulty with keeping what she was feeling in her mind. She could not contain the agitating insanity of her brian. She was having a hard time keeping images of insanity out of her thoughts as she stared at Angie, tied uncomfortably in her bed. “If you are just one, then why are there TWO shadows reflected on the wall directly in front of me?” Angie asked, trembling in fear. “The one closest to you is probably the instigator, I guess. It's responding to the pain I'm going through because I don't really want to kill you.” “And...the other one?” “It's probably the shadow of reason,” Daniella clarified with a frown. Both shadows were unique and served a purpose. Daniella wanted to murder very quickly, but she didn't. The shadows were battling to gain predominance. Each shadow had a distinctive response to Daniella's serial killer actions. They were causing needless mayhem. Daniella had put the murder on pause. “If both shadows are coming from you then why is one shadow darker than the other?” Angie's lips quivered and her legs fidgetted. The pattern of darkness made both shadows different even though they came from the same person. Each shadow had a different personality and emotion. Angie tried to scream. Daniella stood there quietly, unflinched, listening and watching Angie squirm. Angie wasn't even attempting to free herself. Daniella had a sharp, serrated knife, angled in such a way as if ready to stab Angie. Suddenly Daniella started to scurry towards Angie as the darker shadow started shouting profanities which only Daniella could hear. The lighter shadow tried to block the commotion. Angie stopped moving and fidgeting as she witnessed the difficulty Daniella was experiencing. “What is stopping me? Why do I feel so odd inflicting the killer blow?” Daniella muttered. Daniella was listening to the shadows, but still watching Angie, with the knife set for destruction. The serrated knife was ready to rip apart the flesh in Angie's body. Daniella was exercising herculean patience. The darker shadow looked more determined, with the intent to kill. It grew larger and darker than before and covered the entire room—the whole perimeter engulfing the lighter shadow. The shades of darkness kept propping in and out. Daniella started to visualize an arching fountain of blood beginning to fill the room. The lighter shadow seemed to have given a glimmer of hope, before disappearing into the darkness of insanity that was the killer's mind. The lighter shadow was carrying a little light of the killer's consciousness. Though infinitely small and fragile in comparison with the powers of darkness, it is still a light, killer's only light. But eventually got completely discharged, and rendered useless. _________________________________________________________ Author's note: This story is my interpretation from my inner belief of India's three terms describing sainthood: Sat, Chit, Ananda. Sat is the existential stuff of life(mostly the left side of the balance); Chit is the ideal capacity(mostly the right side of balance); Ananda is the bliss, joy, ecstasy of enlightenment—the fulcrum of the seesaw.

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