The Man Made of Shadows

Just don’t fall asleep.

If I don’t fall asleep then it won’t happen again.

I won’t see Him again.

I won’t feel Him again.

I won’t hear Him again.

I just want to get through this night. Just one night please! One night of not experiencing Him again.

I look over at the faint red light of the digital clock. 12:08 AM. It barely illuminates my face, but it gives off just enough light so I can see the oppressing shadows that creep and crawl all around me. They can sense my fear, but they also know they can’t do a thing to me until I fall asleep.

And I will not fall asleep tonight! Not while the shadows are at their strongest! I just need to make it to 5:58 AM. That is when the weather person said in the evening news report sunrise starts.

Five hours. Five long hours of fighting off sleep so that I don’t have to face the shadows that haunt my dreams. Maybe this one time I’ll be able to get through a night without seeing Him.

I need to distract my mind. Think of something. Anything. Get lost in a memory, but don’t fall asleep. Relax my mind and try to remember how this all started.

***

I’d bone the grim reaper himself if it meant getting a good night’s sleep. These night terrors, as the book I’m reading names them, are making my sleep schedule Hell. I’ll try just about anything to get them to stop, but so far no dice.

I’ve resorted to sleeping during the day to try and make up for the lost sleep. I’ve even convinced my personal watchmen, Gerald, to lump together my recreational time and breakfast time with sleep in exchange for some premium cigs. But when good ol’ Chief Charlie got word of our arrangement he ratted us out to the big wigs up in their holy than thou tower. It’s not really a tower but the rest of us residents here refer to the observation deck as such.

Men and Women dressed to the nines in their fancy clothes and high-priced accessories would rotate in and out watching all of us residents like cattle for the slaughter. Or in this case people to send to the newly renovated psyche ward.

A ward designed for special residents in this place. “Special” meaning loonier than Bugs friggen Bunny is what they won’t say to your face, but I know better. I’ve seen them take not just residents but our watchers as well to that ward. That’s where they sent Gerald after he got bumped down to resident status. I still remember the way he looked the last time I saw him.

Gerald was telling me about how the cigs were the only thing that could keep him awake between midnight and dawn.

I asked him “What’s so damn important about being awake during those hours? Sounds like a good way to earn yourself a one-way ticket to the new psyche ward if you ask me.”

Gerald looked at me with a look of both concern and disgust. Like a soldier that knows the horrors of war that us civies will never experience. Then he says, “Because that’s when the man made of shadows comes to you in your dreams. He plays with you until you are a ripe apple for picking. Only your soul is the apple, Cortez.”

He reaches towards my throat and then points just below it where my clavicle bones almost touch. For a moment I feel something give a single twitch in that spot. It startles me so much that I stand up from my chair. I give Gerald a hard look but then sit back down trying to look not so rattled.

“The man made of shadows? Picking your soul? Sounds like a lame Freddy Krueger to me. What’s so scary about that? Gerald, I think you need to start going to bed at a normal time. You sound crazy!” I stood back up and began to head back to my room, but Gerald quickly with the speed of a striking snake grabs ahold of my arm by the wrist.

He is staring intensely at me as I look into his tired, grey eyes and hallowed cheeks of someone who hasn’t had a proper meal in weeks. The big wigs really take it personally here when one of their own back-stabs them. I also noticed that his hair has been thinning remarkably fast even for a man of his declining age. Christ he is only supposed to be five years older than me, but he looks like he is twenty years older easily.

I try to tug my arm free. I really don’t like being touched suddenly. But his grip only tightens just like a snake would against its struggling prey.

His pale grey eyes suddenly take on a new color. Deep indigo with a hint of the old grey just at the center of the iris. His pale white skin turns into a sickening greenish black of an old bruise. My arm begins to go numb at his touch. I can hear my pulse thudding in my ears as his nails dug into my bare, brown skin drawing specks of blood.

Then a voice that is and is not Gerald speaks. Its gravely, low pitch mixed with ear scratching high tones reverberates in my head.

“Do not make lite of the man made of shadows. Or else He will find you in your dreams next and torment your soul.”

 At last, I wretch my arm free of Gerald’s grip. As soon as I do, his eyes quickly snap back to their usual pale grey. Only his eyes seemed even more sunk in than one minute ago.

He stands up in a panicked state knocking over the folding chair I was sitting in. The metal clanging snuffed out a few of the words he shouted at me, but I heard enough to make my skin crawl.

“Don’t sleep tonight! He is looking for you now!” Then two men in white came and dragged Gerald off to the new psyche ward. Poor son-of-a-bitch.

The next morning Gerald was found in his room, dead. Autopsy said he died of asphyxiation. The medical term for being strangled to death. But his room was locked all night according to the cameras.

***

1:58 AM. Damnit. I can feel my tired eyes getting heavier. This is the sixth night I’ll have pushed through till dawn. The past week I’ve been running on about 3 hours of sleep a day. At this point, the man made of shadows needs to only visit me one more time. I don’t know how I know that, but I can feel it. My soul is barely attached to my body anymore. When I do sleep it’s like I float out into what I call the astral realm. It looks very similar to the waking realm, but like those Tolkien books I once read, everything is a little out of focus. Like a blurry picture of wind rippling through tall fields of wheat only it does it to chairs, walls, objects, and even peoples' bodies.

 I wish I could go back to those naïve days.

The days I could sleep during the night.

The days before I met the man made of shadows.

3:33 AM. Not much longer. Two hours and twenty-five minutes.

He is weakest at daybreak. When the light of a new day washes into my east facing room with the only window in this new psyche ward.

Got myself sent here when I confided in the facility's therapist, but ol’ Dr. Warner told the big wigs that my insomnia has caused my mind to crack like an egg. Which made me a perfect fit for the new psyche ward. I thought the whole point of rehabilitation was to help us reform our once bad habits. But I guess there is no rehabilitating crazy.

4:47 AM. Almost there. Just a little longer.

But at that thought I can feel my eyelids drifting down like sandbags lowering the stage curtains to a showstopping performance at the regal theater.

“No…please I need to stay…” awake.

I blink rapidly to attempt to stimulate some kind of energy.

Eff this! I don’t care if I’m not supposed to walk around in my room at night. Chief Charlie can kiss my brown ass!

I go to stand up but it feels like my body is moving through a thick, heavy substance. A cool dark fog that coats the air itself in the astral realm.

Oh God no! Please, no! I shout but my words have no voice in this place.

The walls themselves begin to beat like a living creature. The wispy blur filter begins to howl. Shadows dance like nightmares on the walls of my astral prison.

I can feel my heart racing in my body. I slowly spin around and see my body. I fell asleep as I turned over to try and get up. My left arm tucked lazily under my body. My right arm draped over the side of the bed limp and lame. My legs twitch under the stress of trying to move, but the dreadful demon of sleep has taken me into its realm.

Just focus. The books mentioned a way to break out of sleep paralysis. Become aware of your body. Minute movements to signal the brain its still awake.

But I can’t move like this. I need to try and lie back down with my body.

And so I painstakingly inch by inch move my astral form into the awkward sleeping position my body is in. I can see the clock racing by. The minutes passing like seconds here.

5:18 AM. I’m almost home free! I can begin to feel tiny sparks of sensation at the very edges of my toes and fingertips. I try wiggling my right big toe, then slowly try to curl my right hand into a fist.

Where do you think you’re going? A deep demonic voice I’m all too familiar with sweetly whispers into my ear like a lover coaxing their partner back to bed.

My muscles freeze. My eyes dart back and forth to try and see the man made of shadows, but my head won’t turn. I can feel a suffocating and malignant presence spooning my body from behind.

I feel something like an arm wrap around my waist. I want to scream for help!

Help me! Please help me! Guard! But I’ve forgotten that my words have no voice in this cursed realm.

The man made of shadows breathes faster like a beast getting excited about its latest prey. His almost fingers slip delicately around my nape and close around the bottom of my throat.

Please! Why are you doing this to me?

Oh, sweet Carlos. You know exactly why I am here.

No! I won’t just let him take me! I need to fight back, damnit! I didn’t come this far doing what I’ve done to let a literal sleep paralysis demon kill me!

I can feel more sensation in my left arm. The pin prickly sensation of a limb falling asleep buzzes around my hand. My soul and body are becoming one again.

5:28 AM

The deep dark black sky speckled with stars begins to turn navy blue. Just enough light to see the lighter I hid between my bedframe and mattress. I begin to slowly move my real left arm towards it, but that damn dark fog is still slowing me down.

It’ll be over very soon, Carlos. And you can join all the other tormented souls I keep in my pocket.

I see a long shadow grow on my wall. Then the shadow pushes the wall away leaving a gaping maw of pure shadow. More of that wispy wind engulfs my room ferociously. My own body is beginning to blow in this hateful wind. In the maw I see thousands upon thousands of tiny balls of various colors the size of a quarter.

Then to my absolute horror I see what is inside those tiny balls.

Faces.

A sea of faces screaming in agony.

Some are drenched in blood. Others are on fire. And some are simply shrieking at whatever torture the man made of shadows is subjecting their soul to.

The voices of the faces echo in my ears

Please help us! Free us!

I can’t! I’m sorry, but I got to save myself first!

I can feel the smooth plastic surface of the lighter on my thumb. I wrap my fingers around it and place my thumb on the striker.

I’m only going to get one chance to surprise Him.

I hear his corrosive cackling bubbling in my ear. Then I see a small bright, dark-yellow light appear at the spot Gerald pointed at on my chest.

5:49 AM

I can’t wait for dawn any longer! It’s now or never!

With every once of strength I can muster into my left arm pull on the striker as I swing my arm backwards towards the man made of shadows.

He howls in what I can only guess is either pain or surprise. Maybe both. Hopefully both.

The pressure on my throat releases and I whip my legs down onto the cold concrete ground. I see a shadow from the corner of my eye flee back into the walls.

5:55 AM. I stand up as I normally would. No more dark fog slowing me down.

I can’t believe I fought him off! I’m so overwhelmed with joy that I stand up on top of my bed and begin to jump like a schoolboy on Christmas morning.

As I bounce up and down, I watch the digital clock turn over to 5:56 AM. Two more minutes and the man made of shadows can no longer harm me!

I go for a big jump! At the peak of my joyful jubilant joust I look down and my heart freezes over.

That’s my body. Asleep on my back. Left arm holding the lighter but splayed-out limp and lame again. But I won! He’s gone! Why am I still here?

That same corrosive cackling returns to my ears.

Silly, Carlos. When it is your time to join your kind in the City of Shadows, there is no escape from me!

A pure shadow of an almost man juts out from my bed. His almost hands catch me mid fall around the throat. I can feel their icy touch begin to strangle me.

My heart races as I flail my astral limbs around trying to break free, but my blows only go right through the man made of shadows.

That same bright dark-yellow light emerges once again from my chest. I watch as it slowly travels up my throat. It tastes like piss and vinegar. My mouth opens involuntarily as my soul is pushed out by the almost hands.

The man made of shadows drags my astral body back over to the wall. He kicks it and the wall caves back into the black gaping maw.

This time I see not the countless souls he’s captured, but a view that I would call almost beautiful if I wasn’t so petrified. Just like the man made of shadows, I see a sprawling cityscape made entirely of shadows. A few specks of light flash here and there, but the shadows are quick to snuff them out.

The City of Shadows. A place where all souls belonging to the shadows of the universe go when they die. I don’t know how I know this, but I do now. I know it just like I know all the names of the lives I’ve ruined.

I hope you enjoy your time with us, Carlos Cortez! See ya in a millennium or two!

He takes my soul and begins to ball it up in his almost palms. As he does this my astral body is rolled right into it. I shriek in fear, but my voice has no more weight here.

Goodbye, Mom. I’m sorry I was such a waste of a son.

***

5:58 AM. The sun rises in Carlos Cortez’s cell. His body is cold and lifeless with large bruises on his neck. His guard is the first to find the body. Warden Charlie Coffers is called down to the psyche ward to oversee the disposal of the body.

At breakfast time in the Savoria Penitentiary, Northside, the warden gives an announcement in the newsroom. It is broadcasted to the entire prison.

“Inmate number 2052, Carlos Ramirez Cortez. Age 47. Convicted of vehicular manslaughter on all three counts. Died at 5:58 AM on October 27th, 2019. The city of Savoria will see to it that his body is given to his next of kin. The relatives of the victims of Mr. Cortez’s crimes should find some peace knowing the murderer of the three Baker children is now dead in the ground. He never revealed his reasons as to why he drove his bus into the lake, but we hope that his loss balances out whatever forces are at work in this beautiful city. Thank you.”