A Story of Shadows

There had always been something strange about the woman. At the best of times, she was quiet and reserved, never saying more than a few words to anyone, and rarely leaving the house. She always wore a simple white dress, and kept to the shadows, keeping light in the house to a minimum. She lived alone with her father, who never paid much attention to her, but spent the majority of his time working furiously in front of the computer, barely sleeping, and turning in to bed late at night, when everything had faded to darkness, and the only light in the house was that of the glowing computer screen. He never did notice much, least of all, the changes that were beginning to take place in his daughter. Her already sallow complexion began to fade along with everything else, so that it began to take on a pallor similar to that of wax. Her eyes gradually sunk deeper into their sockets, and the shadows of her face became darker. Years went by, and still, the man worked, ate frugally, and slept away the hours of the morning, the only light in his life coming from the dull glow of the monitor. From the shadows, the ashen face watched him, unnoticed as time slipped away like the sibilant slithering of a snake.

Then, one night, it happened. The man had finished his labor for that day and fallen into a deep sleep, as was evident from his wheezing breaths. All was quiet in the house, except for the occasional bewildered chirp from a cricket that had found itself trapped in a maze of venting pipes that ran all though the house. Suddenly, a ghostly figure appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, and there was a spark of red from the shadows of the eyes. For many moments, the specter lingered, staring at the man's sleeping form. Then, with nothing more than a breath of air, it disappeared. Far away, a clock tolled midnight. The specter had reappeared, now further into the bedroom, her features softly illuminated by the light from the screen. She glided over until she was staring directly down at the man's resting body, her face wreathed with a halo of jet black hair. Her white hand reached out and touched his face gently, and once again, a glint of red flashed forth from her sunken eyes. The darkness in the room suddenly grew blacker, and a chill ran through the air. The cricket was silenced in mid-chirp, the wheezing breath cut out, and a deathly silence reigned. She now stood outside the room, clothed in the purest of white, and yet somehow still clothed in shadows. Her hand reached slowly for the wall. With a click, the light can forth, streaming down from the dusty light bulb in the hall, illuminating all that had been lost in darkness for so long. The woman stood motionless, her hand held to cover her face while the other hand still rested on the wall, a white figure burned into the recesses of my memory.