The Shadow Maker

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

I am a child again. My mind a wonderous mixture of evolving truths and imagination. And I remember the nights. When the shadows of the night begin to move around my room.

THE SHADOW MAKER  

By Al Garcia

I am a child again.  Mymind a wonderous mixture of evolving truths and imagination.  And I remember the nights.  When the shadows of the night began to moe around my room. looming black images lurking, prowling as if in search of a body to consume and devour.  Unformed creatures of the night reaching out with its cold and sticky blackness, seeking to embrace the warmth of a human soul of a little boy like me.

It is night -- the shadow maker comes.  Night is the time when the lights go out and the darkness begins to divide and grow, eventually consuming everything that it embraces with its blackness and its darkness.  Night is the time when the moving and roaming creatures of the night come out to feed.  They are the shadows of the night.  They are born faceless and armless, floating aimlessly in the nigh, their shape and their form ever changing, ever growing as the night grows longer and the moon fades into the sea beyond the end of every day.  The shadow maker comes.  Tonight, it may be coming just for me.

I remember my imagination as a child.  Even back then, so many years ago, my mind contrived images of monsters and beasts that lived in a world beyond my dreams.  Creatures of the night that I could bring out to play, by simply closing my eyes and opening my mind.  And I took the power of my imagination for granted.  I thought everyone shared my magical and captivating world.  There was a naturalness to hearing and seeing and even feeling the shadows of the night, as they transformed themselves into angels or devils, hovering or soaring above my head, as I laid in my bed, drifting into dreams that sometimes made me scared.  I was the shadow maker, creating magic out of the silent darkness that embraced me.

Those were the days of my childhood.  Learning each day of the power that lurked inside of me, Learning the difference between the angels and the devils that cajoled me from my restless sleep, and learning how the brilliance of the rays of sun exposed the good, the bad and even the ugly that surrounded me, while the dark that brought the night could veil and hide the truths that life could thrust upon a human soul, even that of a child my age, and deceive and betray the fragile and evolving capability to differentiate between reality and fantasy, between right and wrong, and between good and evil.  And so, early on, I learned to harvest my imagination and the shadows of the night. 

And in the days and years that passed, as I shed the accoutrements of my childhood and my youth, I learned how to live and how to dream, and how to know the difference between the two.  I learned that the shadows of the night are not moving and roaming creatures in the dark that have out to feed on the minds of children or on weak and fragile minds.  I have learned that I was always the shadow maker, and that I still am.

I have learned that life sometimes is scarier than the contrived images of monsters and beasts that used to live in a world beyond my dreams when I was just a child.  I have learned, through bumps and falls and scrapes along the way, that there is a power that lurks inside of me that empowers me and inspires me to be the shadow maker or a dream maker.

And I’d rather be the dream maker -- who sees the brilliance of the coming days, than the shadow maker -- who contrives imaginary monsters and beasts who live in the darkness of my past.


Submitted: May 24, 2021

© Copyright 2021 A.Garcia. All rights reserved.

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