《Little Shadows (Volume 1)》


 Tale 1 - Flowers

    The sunshine rays that filtered through the big windows warmed the place inside, but they couldn''t compare to the warmth in the woman''s chest caused by a new love. The flower shop had a spectacular scent all year round that she enjoyed every day and taking care of the flowers, though it was a constant and laborious work, was worth it if it meant keep being the favorite supplier for "her".


    The florist had met her several years ago, when she became her favorite flower supplier for the events she organized as work, and after a series of talks, outings for coffee and dinners together, spring had finally come. Until that point, their relationship was nothing but friendship, but she couldn''t take the step ahead she wanted. The florist only had her shop, how could she get close to someone like her, that directed a business, that was searched with months in anticipation for people to take charge of their events? The difference she felt between both was abysmal.


    Like an omen of her future, that season the red roses weren''t blooming. On the contrary, the yellow ones shined their petals like the Sun. She made an arrangement with them and added some yellow tulips and dondiegos. Even though the arrangement was beautiful, she didn''t feel better. She sold it for barely thirty pesos.


    Everything changed the day she found that shadow. It appeared suddenly in the middle of the flower shop''s floor, like an illusion created by the mix in the lights from the Sun and the lamps in the shop. But when she touched it, when she took it between her fingers, she knew it was real. The shadow danced in the palm of her hand, unable to decide which shape to take. When she caressed it, the florist felt a peculiar vigor expanding trough all her body.


    She felt more awake, stronger, and more cheerful, like a flower that stands up with water dew after a hot summer day. Just as she was thinking that, from her hand sprouted a flower. She got scared at first, but curiosity and fascination were stronger than fear. With her other hand, she pulled the plant and looked at it carefully. It exceeded the delicacy and symmetry of the ones she had in her shop. She''d never seen one more beautiful and shinning than that one, and when she ventured turning off the lights, she discovered it was actually producing light.


    She created more flowers from her hand: orange blossoms, marigolds, altheas. Every time a new one appeared she could feel a tickle in the other one, where she was holding the little shadow. It didn¡¯t matter what she created after, every flower that her hands made shone in darkness in an ethereal way. The florist didn''t waste time, and immediately bottled herself in the job of creating arrangements with those flowers. Her flowers, unique for having natural luminescence, soon caught the attention of a lot of clients. Her tulips lasted more than any other. There wasn''t comparison for her amaryllis. The scent of her lavender was matchless. And the brightness that the laurels produced at night confused even the sunflowers.


    When the clients came, money came with them, too. She expanded her business once, twice, three times, and with it, the size of her commissions increased as well. The woman she adored was happy for her, and also because her own business had bloomed thanks to the shiny flower arrangements it offered.


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    But as her profits increased, their time together decreased. She stopped going for coffee with the florist, or to meet for dinner. Instead, the phone calls became more frequent, and it always started or ended with talks about work. The florist felt her love getting away, and believing it wasn''t enough yet, she gave herself to her work. With just a little bit more effort she thought she''d be ready to confess to her. She just needed to sell more, gain more, make more. The flowers in her hand weren''t enough anymore, so she started to produce them in her arm too. The she continued with the other. She started to notice that it hurt when she popped the plants from her skin, something that''d never happened before, but she ignored it. Don''t they say that love hurts?


    The flowers kept growing until they reached her shoulders, and little by little they advanced to her neck. The little shadow, that tickled her hard every time they appeared, one day started to tremble. It was the same day she found flowers on her back that she hadn''t made. She tried to pull them off, but it was useless. Every time she got rid of one, two more sprouted. She tried doing it faster to not leave them time to come out, but when she did, three more appeared. Besides, the pain got stronger with each one she pulled, going through her muscles, and reaching her spine. If only she could use those flowers for her job it wouldn''t have been that bad, but they withered every time they stop being in contact with her skin.


    Then, they started to hurt even without pulling them. She could feel the roots going under her skin and extending like animals running through her body. She didn''t notice the moment flowers started to appear from her hands and arms too. She pulled them when she saw them, but the pain was so intense that she wanted to cut her limb. She felt scared, and with every chill a new group of flowers sprouted from her.


    She was in her flower shop, and tried to run outside to call for help, but tripped and fell. She noticed with fear that roots grew from her legs and pierced the floor, chaining her to the interior of her workplace. She opened her mouth to try screaming, but from her cheek appeared more flowers that went through her mouth with their roots, piercing her tongue and creating from it beautiful daffodils.


    More and more flowers bloomed from her whole body, going through her clothes, her nails and her eyelids. As if they have heard her wish of making more, one after another appeared. As if answering the flowers, the little shadow trembled in an improvised dance. On the floor, the florist tried to creep, but was useless. From her arms and sides grew roots that, alongside the ones from her legs, trapped her in place. New flower buds didn''t stop appearing, and they found their home on her skin, her muscles, her bones, and finally, they reached the organs.


    Everything hurt... and suddenly, the pain went away. When it did, the shadow stopped moving.


    By the time afternoon came, the phone was ringing nonstop with tens of missed calls and unread messages. They had knocked the door another dozen times, but the visitors left after receiving no answer. The interior of the flower shop was deserted, only inhabited by the unfinished arrangements and the enormous bush in the middle of the place from where it came the sweet scent of hundreds of flowers with the touch of a unique hydrangea, the last one of all the flowers to bloom.


    No one was there to see the dark figure that suddenly appeared, which bended to pick up the little shadow, and disappeared as fast as it came. No one noticed how it had stopped, just a few seconds, to admire the flowers from the bush before that.


    From the light that radiated from them appeared wonderful shadows.

 Tale 2 - The Watch

    There is nothing more impossible to avoid than the passing of time.


    For him, who was in the last years of his life, the constant tick-tock was a reminder of a sentence that drew near. Sitting in a corner of the room, age had left him unable to walk. It was impossible to brighten his mood, even though it was a beautiful day a through the window the sunrays came inside, with the singing of birds and the scent of the flowers in the garden.


    He was at the end of his life, and what had he achieved? Nothing. There weren''t trophies decorating the shelves, nor recognitions hanging from the wall. There weren''t galleries showing his work, and reporters didn''t come to interview him. Nobody would bother to write his biography. Nobody would cry his death, and there wouldn''t be any monuments built in his honor after it. He just had the brushes and the canvas left, not wanted by anybody, that collected dust in the cellar of the house.


    The sound of animated talks came along childish laughs. The children were visiting, and they brought with them the grandkids, but he didn''t come out to see them. They were preparing the garden for a party, and he heard they''d bring him with them when everything was ready. He also heard the family talk about the latest news, in which stood out the story of a florist who had managed to cultivate luminescent flowers and was a total celebrity in the media.


    Hearing about someone else''s success only increased his headache. Who cared about some shiny flowers, when the work of his life was going to be lost in oblivion forever? If he''d known that his efforts would end up useless, he wouldn''t have wasted so much time in them. Maybe then he''d have something more than a life of failures.


    It was in an autumn day when he found a peculiar shadow. Right above his nightstand, he touched it thinking it was an insect, but realized it wasn''t like that. When he took it in his hand, he felt a strange vigor running throughout his body. He didn''t remember the last time he''d felt so energetic and noticed that the weight of age came back when he stopped being in contact with the little shadow.


    So, he took it in a fist and put his hand in his pocket, position that he kept all day. The energy brought him joy, and he complained less than usual. The second day he felt way better than the first one. And so it continued during the third and fourth. By the fifth day, he found out in the mirror on the bathroom that some of his wrinkles had disappeared. By the tenth, he left behind his wheelchair and started to walk again. Everybody was surprised by his recovery, himself included. By the second week, he had half the wrinkles than before and the arthritis of his hands had disappeared almost entirely, so he took a brush and painted for the first time in years.


    Nobody, except him, knew that the blessing was born from his good luck charm, his little shadow that he never separated from, which he put under his wristwatch so that it''d always be in contact with him. But on the third week he realized the true nature of his miracle. He knew when he looked himself in the mirror and found out that the face that looked at him was his, but with the looks he had years before. The shadow didn''t just give him vitality: it was making him younger.


    Once he knew, an idea took place on his head. He decided to lock himself in his home for entire days without letting anyone in, not even his family that was baffled by this decision. After a moth of the beginning of his change, he went outside to the world as a man thirty years younger, unrecognizable by then. He had a new chance at life, and he wasn''t going to miss it.


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    He was in his forties and traveled to present is pieces to a new generation of critics. He spent a whole week searching for someone who''d recognize their innate value, but just like on his first try, nobody wanted them. When he tried defending his pieces and they responded comparing him with other painters, he complained. He thought that was the problem with people that let themselves be contaminated by other artists by studying them, not like him, whose pieces were pure and untainted. He didn''t have any other choice but to resign and cursed the snobs in art while leaving.


    He was in his thirties when he decided he could enjoy his second chance some other way. Half for bohemia and half to vent, he spent his days using the money of his retirement going to luxury restaurants to eat the most exquisite dishes, drink the most luxurious wine and stay in the most renown hotels. He was in his twenties when he entered the night life of the city, unknown to him. He got drunk until he fainted, he slept with a different woman every night and tried by accident drugs he''d never tasted on his youth.


    He was on the cusp of his second life and enjoyed every minute, every second of life without the weight of following a dream. He decided he wanted to stay like that forever, without worries or trouble, so he tried to take off his watch to stop his time in that state.


    However, he couldn''t do it. No matter how much he pulled the strap of the watch to move, it didn''t concede even a centimeter. He tried using more strength until he started to feel pain, as if he were pulling of his own skin. He searched for some scissors, which he tried to put between his wrist and the strap to cut it, but in the moment, he tried the pain increased. He let the scissors fall to the ground and saw a blood drop running towards the palm of his hand. He spent the next three days trying to remove the damned watch, always with pain, never with success.


    He got scared. Could it be that it was stuck to his skin and now was a part of his body? Now he was in his teens and had locked himself up in his house again. He couldn''t go to bars or anywhere else to waste his money anymore. He spent the hours trying to find a way to tear off the watch from himself. His hair, abundant and shiny, was constantly disheveled by his desperate hands.


    He was on his childhood when he decided to chop off his hand. He had to get a chair closer to the kitchen bar to take a knife, but his hands were tiny and clumsy, so he cut his finger with it. He saw with horror how the wound disappeared, and the blood came back inside his body in seconds. He ran to call the police, emergencies, anybody, but he tripped and fell. He''d become another year younger and his shoes were too big for him now.


    He took them off and ran towards the table with the phone, but the height of the furniture increased before he reached it. He had become another year younger. He jumped to take it and throw it to the floor in his clumsiness. He bended and called the first number he found on the directory, one of his children, but they hanged up on him since they didn''t recognize his voice. He tried to call again, but then became younger and the phone slipped through his hands, too small to hold it. In panic he pressed the buttons while he was on the floor, while he heard his heart on his ears and sweated.


    Waiting for someone to pick up he bit the watch, that wouldn''t separate from his skin even though his wrist wasn''t big enough for it anymore. With all the strength his childish jaw allowed him, he bit the straps of the thing and the skin around it to tore it off, until, suddenly, he found himself on his back on the floor. He tried to talk, but it was useless. He tried to stand up, which was also useless. He was only able to wriggle and cry between his clothes, that were now big enough for him like sheets.


    And suddenly, the crying stopped.


    The watch fell to the ground, and from underneath it, the little shadow popped off. In the loneliness of the house, the silence swallowed the memory of a baby crying without anyone noticing.


    Nobody was there to see the dark figure that appeared suddenly, that picked up the little shadow before disappearing, barely looking at the clothes on the floor. The watch beside them continued its tick-tock while its shadow became bigger as the house became darker, without anyone to alert of the passing of hours towards the night.

 Tale 3 - Whispers

    Starting to live in a new city where you know no one would be hard for anyone. That experience was new for them, but they were sure they''d be capable to overcome it. With the job of their dreams in one hand and a notebook filled with rules to follow on the other, they didn''t worry about being able to survive in that new environment. Said notebook had the rules: "Don''t buy except that what is to be consumed", "Be there at least 15 minutes before any date", and "Always check twice that the door is locked before going out".


    It was a shame that it didn''t tell them how to interact with their new neighbors, and so, they thanked having their schedule packed between their job and adapting. However, to create connections was indispensable for them it they wanted to keep living there, so, one day, they took the opportunity to talk with their next door neighbor when noticing that her cat was limping. They gave her the card of the veterinary center where they worked, assuring her that they''ll give her the best treatment at the best price. After the cat¡¯s recovery, they started to have little talks with her when they encountered. It was still hard to interact, since she was a stranger to them, but they didn''t have to rush. Relationships, after all, are created little by little.


    They couldn¡¯t say the same about their work. Their coworkers weren¡¯t a problem, at least no bigger than their neighbor, but dealing with clients was a nightmare. Almost always they panicked when one talked with them for too long and they ended up searching for help in their boss or their more experienced coworkers. Sometimes, social interaction rules didn''t make sense to them, and that made them prefer animals. They were easier to understand, but how nice if they could talk like humans.


    It was on an afternoon, when they were the last one to leave, that they found the little shadow. Stuck to the body of a pitbull''s puppy, they mistook it for a tick, but found out it wasn''t that by removing it. It was solid but soft and moved like a shivering little animal. They thought it was garbage and was about to throw it out, when they heard a "Thank you" behind them. They turned, but didn''t see anyone, which scared them. Then other voices started reaching them. It didn''t take them long before figuring out their origin; they came from the animals in the cages. Unable to believe their ears, they left the shadow on the table and got closer to listen better, but the voices disappeared. Confused, and believing maybe they imagined it, they took the shadow again to throw it, and the voices came back.


    Convinced now that it wasn''t their imagination, for the first time they were happy of having a long conversation with someone. Now they were able to know what was wrong with every pet that crossed the door. They knew when the parrots wanted to try new seeds. They recognized every single one of the white mice without error. They could guess where the old dog that was a regular was hurting. every animal has a different voice, and nobody was surprised they received a raise.


    Maybe it was the constant practice of having conversations what made them begin to talk more with humans, or maybe it was the vigor they felt every time they touched the little shadow. But after a while, they also started to feel goosebumps and headaches every time it was in contact with their skin. They didn''t give it any mind and continued their way.


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    As if it was a result of all their efforts, their neighbor invited them for dinner one night. It was the first time they were going to eat to someone else''s house, anyone, and that made them feel successful, like a student that approved a test. Sitting in the living room and waiting for their host to prepare the food, they found the white cat stroking their leg and purring. They spoke to it between whispers, saying hi and asking how it was, and the animal answered with a greeting too. Then the cat asked if they were the new neighbor of its master. After answering with a yes, by curiosity they asked how it had injured its leg before, the day they met. The cat answered. It said that it was hurt by the old neighbor of its master, the one that had occupied the house where they were now. However, it said to not fret when it saw indignation in their face. Because, after all, its master had already hunted him. When they asked what it meant, the cat answered that it was going to be the dinner.


    Their neighbor appeared and told them the table was ready. When they got close, they saw steaks of red meat in the plates. With a goosebump, they used and excuse that they knew was bad to get out of there. They entered their house, ran towards the bathroom, and hold with both hands the washbasin while trying to fight the nausea. It was useless; the vomited and went to bed without eating.


    They stopped talking with their coworkers little by little. They started to do the impossible to avoid their neighbor. And when they encountered her, they ran as fast as they could to the safety of their house. The goosebumps grew bigger, and the voices started coming not just from the pets anymore, but from the flies in the trash, the ants on the wall and the worms under the dirt. In their notebook they wrote a new rule: "Avoid meat at all costs".


    But they didn''t have proof. They only had the terrible sensation every time they saw the door of the house next door or when they remembered the cat''s eyes, deeply blue, that insinuated the fatal destiny of the last tenant of their home. The doubt wasn''t going to let them live in peace, so when they found the cat the third time, they decided to bribe it with a treat and ask: where was the old neighbor? And the cat answered he was on the garden.


    When they heard it, they walked towards the back side of the house, where said garden was. The sound of their heartbeats slammed their ears, but it was soon replaced by another: the echo of dozens of worms speaking in whispers that came from the dirt, that repeated the same word over, and over, and over again.


    Delicious.


    That same day they called the police. In just a few hours, their neighbor was handcuffed, and the contents of her fridge were being put in plastic bags, while the bones of the old neighbor and other three people were being dusted in the garden. They took everything, even the white cat, which was put in a cage to take it to an adoption center. They were there just to see how the cat looked at them with the same blue eyes, without blinking, and heard it say they were lucky, because its master had planned to hunt them that same day.


    This time, the shiver they felt was like an electric shock. It left them incapable of moving for a few seconds, with the head about to explode as they felt the shadow tickling their hand. When he got control of themself back, they took the shadow and threw it into the garbage. In less than two days they left their house, and a new sentence appeared in their notebook: "Find a new job".


    No one was there to see the dark figure appear in the empty house. No one saw it take the little shadow and disappear without a trace, and no one heard it either. It didn''t even make the echo of a whisper when vanishing in the dark.

 Tale 4 - The Seer

    It had been years since she knew she was a girl. Unfortunately, it seemed that the rest of the world was not on the same page.


    The word "boy" followed her wherever she went, and there was not a moment of the day that she was not aware of it. The clothes, the hair, the height, even the tips of her fingers reminded her of it. Still, her problem now was different: the secret was getting too big to keep.


    She had done well so far. A few smiles and little silences had been enough to silence it, but it was starting to get louder and louder as the days went by. What would she do now? She was too scared to bring it out. There were too many variables, too many things that could go wrong. What would her parents say about now having a daughter? Her friends? Her teachers? Her future bosses, future landlords, future neighbors? Anxiety about what they would say and do terrified her. And yet, remaining still and unchanged terrified her just as much.


    She spent a season like this, being tossed between one fear and another. In her chest she felt a slight but constant pain, which sometimes prevented her from breathing. At other times, she could almost swear she had gotten used to it. However, why should she get used to it? Why couldn''t she say it out loud like others? But when she took a step forward, something or someone would always make her go back, and then she would go back to the beginning. She couldn''t move forward with confidence without knowing what lay ahead.


    It was on a bad day that she came across the little shadow. It was raining, and someone had given her a comment along the lines of ¡°You''re a boy after all¡± as a form of compliment, but that couldn''t have been further from the truth. Sitting at the bus stop waiting for the rain to pass, she took advantage of the fact that no one was there to cry and let off some steam, when she felt a tingling in her hand that scared her. She thought it was an insect, but as she got closer, she noticed that it didn''t move like one. It was a dark speck that trembled as if it were a cold animal due to the rain, but it was definitely not alive.


    With the tip of her finger, she touched it. It was warm, which brought her some comfort from the cold inside and outside. As she took it in her hand, the image of her hugging her family after telling them the truth suddenly flashed in her mind. Vivid and almost palpable, she surprised herself that she could imagine such a future. The unexpected event, and the singular energy that she now felt running through her body, was what made her finally decide to take a leap of faith. A week later, the secret went out from her lips, and just as she had imagined, her family hugged her and accepted. It was so similar that the moment felt like a slight d¨¦j¨¤ vu.


    In her mind she thanked her good luck charm, her little shadow, and decided to squeeze it in her hands again when she decided to tell her friends the secret. She imagined again that everything was going well, and when the time came, it did. It was as if she was suddenly breathing again. As if for the first time she was out for a walk in the sun, now showing herself to the world exactly as she was. Slowly but steadily the fear disappeared, as did the anxiety. Everywhere she carried her little shadow and kept noticing the good luck it gave her. She sensed when a food accident was about to happen, she could guess the day''s weather without looking at the forecast, and sometimes she was even able to tell what someone was going to say before they spoke.


    But one day, seemingly out of nowhere, she started having headaches. She squeezed the shadow in her hand, as if it were able to chase away the pain, but it only made it worse. She got ready and went to school, and was surprised to see that she was about to have a test in one of her classes. Since she didn''t know, she hadn''t studied, and she answered as best as she could. When she finished, a headache so bad it made her close her eyes assailed her, and when she opened them, she was in her home again.


    Confused, she dressed the same as before and went to class, but no one could answer her question about what had happened to the test. This one, after all, would not happen for another week and when the awaited day arrived, she found that the questions were exactly the same as she had seen them before. Similar events began to happen, with increasing frequency. She confused the day, thinking it was Friday instead of Monday. She knew that two friends would break up before they themselves knew. She thought she had gone to a restaurant that wouldn''t open for another month. And the headaches were now beginning to mix with chills and nausea.


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    Still, she didn''t get rid of her little shadow. No matter what was happening to her, she knew that the object would protect her.


    One morning, she got really scared to wake up and find herself in bed with a girl friend. Unable to remember how she got there, she demanded answers, and her friend replied that they had been a couple for a month. She checked her phone, but the date didn''t match what she remembered. She leaned out of the window and didn''t recognize the place either. And when she looked in the mirror, she discovered that she had a scar on her face that wasn''t there before. Confusion turned to fear, and fear to panic. She felt a headache capable of making her kneel. By the time she opened her eyes again, she was in the bathroom at home, and the date was the correct one.


    She had no idea what was happening. Discreetly, she began to drift away from that friend, unable to understand what that vision had been, and even more confused about how she felt about it. Migraines were so common now that she started missing school. Nausea made mealtimes a misery. And the little shadow tickled her hand, like the tingling one feels in the body from lack of oxygen. Due to her increasingly alarming state of health, her friends would visit her when she stayed home. On one of those occasions, she received a visit from the friend from whom she had distanced herself, and she discovered in her face so much concern and affection like she had never seen before. Her heart, which was beginning to jump unexpectedly at the tenderness she saw in her friend, made noise in her chest. When they said goodbye, she felt lighter, as if she had just received a sweet remedy.


    But the pain soon returned, and the next day she was just as bad as before. Then she received a visit from a guy friend, one who had been visiting her every day for a week. She invited him in, served him water and invited him cookies. She tried to talk to him, but the nausea returned, and she ran to lock herself in the bathroom. She leaned against the sink, waiting to vomit, when she felt her head split in two from headaches. She closed her eyes tight. The little shadow trembled in her hand.


    When she opened her eyes, she was no longer in the bathroom, but in her room. She was standing by the door. The curtains were closed. And, on the bed, she saw herself, tied from hands and feet, blindfolded and gagged, naked, and with blood coming from every orifice of her body. Next to her, sitting on the bed, was her naked friend, who was wiping the blood from his hands with clothes the same as the ones she was wearing at that moment, and leaning over her once more to start the second round.


    She shuddered. Threw up. Fell to her knees, unable to look back. She covered her ears, seeking to drown out the sounds that came from the bed in front of her, and tried to get out of that place, when the headache returned, one capable of making her skull explode into thousands of pieces. She hit herself with the wall once, twice... and suddenly, she was back in the bathroom. The vomit produced a horrible odor on the tiled floor.


    Thousands of questions accompanied the headache and made it worse. Those strange visions, d¨¦j¨¤ vu experiences, false memories¡­ It all started with the little shadow. Could it be possible that they were not her imagination? She watched it in her hand, while it shook as if dancing. If her amulet gave more than good luck, if she was really seeing the future, it could mean that something terrible was about to happen to her.


    A knock on the door startled her. His friend was asking if she was okay. In a panic, she searched the bathroom for something to defend herself with, and found an empty spray bottle that she filled with alcohol. Carefully, she opened the door halfway, not letting him in. Between words of concern, dilated pupils and a false smile, she saw the edge of a razor hidden behind his back. She was afraid, but she did not hesitate. She would change the future.


    She flung open the door and sprayed alcohol in his face. The man cried out in pain and closed his eyes, stinging from the liquid, swinging the razor blindly in front of him. She did not manage to dodge and it cut her right cheek. Adrenaline coursing through his body, she pushed the other aside and ran. She grabbed a frying pan from the kitchen, and before he could regain his sight, she hit him over the head with all her might. The man fell to the ground unconscious, and after a few minutes, small red drops began to trickle down from his forehead. But he was alive. And she was too.


    As she could, she dragged him into the bathroom and locked the door. Trembling, with her legs about to give out, she called the police. She felt something run in her hand and noticed the small shadow again, which kept moving as if it were alive.


    Now she had another secret. The memory of the mild but constant pain that came with trying not to let it out came back to her. But this time, she was sure there was no one she could trust... Or, perhaps, there was. She remembered her then. Someone with whom she had seen herself, in some future, sharing something more than just friendship. If there was anyone she could trust, it was probably her. Before the police arrived, she decided to call her and squeezed the little shadow tightly.


    She didn''t notice the dark figure that was watching her from outside her window, but she did notice the headache that was threatening to return.

 Tale 5 - Mother

    Everything has a price, and she figured it out the hard way. She always wanted to be a mother, but three sons had cost her marrying a man she didn''t love while being in love with a woman, and her freedom had come at the price of losing both. She didn''t lament that her now ex-husband hated her, she always expected it; what did weighted on her was that he didn''t want to see his own children anymore. Even more so was the loss of her love, one that she didn''t expected to be returned, but she never imagined that that woman, years¨Clong friend, would abandon her after confessing that her heart could only carry love for others like her. One part of herself was relieved that she didn''t had time to tell her how she felt, and didn''t want to imagine how she''d reacted if she had.


    But she didn''t have time for tears, not with three sons to protect. The oldest of 17 years old, the second of 14 and the youngest of 5 now depended on her alone, and though the oldest was a big help at home, she couldn''t allow him to abandon his wish to go to college by getting a job to help her economically. What kind of mother would she be if she allowed that? A bad one, she said. No; money was her responsibility, not his. With sweet words and head pats she undid the possibility of such a choice every time it appeared and she replaced it with cheering so that hed go back to his studies.


    It was easier to deal with the second one. He''d closed himself up with his books, assuring that he''d become a famous writer with a book that he promised to turn into the most sold of all times. But, if he didn''t, then hed get a stable job as an editor and let his mom retire early. Such naive but pragmatic aspirations cheered her up, though she lamented that his son was spending so much time working hard and less having fun. Was so much effort from his part alright?


    The youngest was the hardest. He missed dad and said so whenever he thought of it. She didn''t know if the others did as well, and was too scared to ask. He also missed that his mom didn''t read to him before going to bed every night, replaced by one of his brothers, but it couldn''t be helped. She''d taken a second job and didn''t comeback home until dawn. He cried often, and without her to dry his tears, it was norma that the hole in his little heart grew a tad more everyday. Was it worth it making him feel so alone?


    The questions weighted in her heart. The two oldest ones didn''t blame her of anything, accepting both her situation and orientation, but she questioned if a part of herself did, and the seas she cried when nobody was looking made her fear she was right. Perhaps she shouldn''t have gotten divorced. Perhaps everyone would be happier if she''d taken her truth to the tomb. Perhaps she should try to get back with her ex-husband, or perhaps she should try finding a new one.


    Maybe she wasn''t cut for this. Maybe she never should''ve gotten married. Maybe everything was her fault. Thinking that, she cried until asleep.


    It was on a full moon night, when she felt the tiredness was about to finish her, that she found the little shadow. It slipped between the dirty clothes she was carrying and tinkled like crystal when it fell to the floor. Without knowing what it was she took it, and a vigor that she didn''t feel in many years run through her body. She was about to leave it over a table and forget about it until the next day, when she''d ask her kids what it was and who it belonged to, when a scream froze her heart. It was her second son.


    She threw the clothes and run to the kitchen, where it came from. She stopped when an unknown man threatened her with a gun, her second child trapped by the neck in one of his arms. The other two kids went out of their rooms, equally freaked out by the scream, and the man threatened them all the same. The oldest took the youngest on his arms, who clenched to his shirt and started crying for mom. The second one cried too, but did so in silence due to the terror.


    She didn''t move. Panic and fear froze her feet and her heart beat with such strength that she felt it''d escape from her mouth. But a tingle in her hand, caused by the little shadow, transformed the fear in adrenaline, and the adrenaline in action. Yes, maybe she was a bad mother, and maybe it''d been better to not get a divorce, and maybe her sons would be happier if she wasn''t the person she was.


    But even a bad mother has her pride. And hers was yelling at her to do whatever it took to protect her children.


    She ran. The little shadow trembled. Three, four steps later, she was in front of the man. A shot. Two. The scream of her children. She closed the hand where the shadow shook in a fist, and gave such a strong punch to the man''s face that a tooth flew away. The gun fell far away, and her son in her arms, to who she hugged. The other two got closer, extremely worried about their mother and the shots they heard. However, where the second son expected to find blood while hugging her, he didn''t found anything. On the floor, both bullets rested like cans that''d been crushed by foot. Her breathing suddenly got faster, and it only went back to normal when her three kids where in her arms, safe and sound. The little shadow slipped from her hand and echoes like a coin in the ground. When it stoped moving, she did too, exhausted.


    She woke up hours later, when the police was taking away the thief that had forced the door and threatened them, and the medics were checking her up from head to toe. After a few extenuating hours of investigation and check ups the house was empty again, and her family could go back to sleep. But not her. When everyone was in their beds and the sub was starting to appear by the window, she stood up and went to find the little shadow un til she found it near the wall. She took it between her index and her thumb, and that same revitalizing energy went inside her.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    The medics and officials had dismissed her lack of wounds to simple luck and her incredible strength to adrenaline, but she knew it wasn''t like that. No; she remembered perfectly the hit that in her body the bullets had caused, one in her stomach, another in her chest. And the energy that mysterious shadow was giving her wasn''t just adrenaline: in the few second she''d carry it, like she was doing now, there was something else it had given her besides strength or determination. It was a security she hadn''t felt in many years, that came from a feeling that hadn''t let her doubt. Certainty, or maybe, confidence.


    What was that shadow and where it came from, nobody could tell her. And since it didn''t belong to anyone, she decided to keep it. She tied the object with a delicate thread and turned it into a necklace that she used regularly,and thanks to which she found strength she didn''t knew she had. The hesitance that would pop up their head before when she took decisions disappeared and she saw with renovated energy that her children also seemed to benefit from her better state, now that she had enough fuel to dedicate time to them.


    But maybe this vitality clouded her judgement, because the grades of her two oldest sons started to decline. It was, undoubtedly, due to their traumatic experience, and she understood. Even so, she couldn''t allow them to. How could they secure a future if they didn''t keep their grades? But as a mother, was reasonable. She took a small loan to send them to therapy and doubled her efforts in her jobs to pay it, as well as to keep pushing her children to move forward.


    Weeks became months, and these piled up one after the other. The little shadow danced on her chest, but it was hard to notice due to the necklace movement when she walked. Where was that woman filled with doubts? She didn''t know, she hadn''t see her in a long while. Where were those emotions that tormented her? Lost somewhere, she didn''t know. When was the last time she''d slept? Maybe three or four days ago, she didn''t knew either.


    And even so, she wasn''t tired. Her mind was clear and serene. Her only worry, if any, was that lately she couldn''t control well he force: she''d broken a couple of chairs and damaged some furniture in both of her jobs.


    But she completely forgot that when her oldest came back with his talk of not going to college. With excuses like the lack of rest he was seeing in his mother and many others she didn''t listen, the argument started to get long. However, she wasn''t fonna accept it, not now, not ever. And she needed to make her son understand that, too.


    She hit the dinner table and broke it in two. It''d be pricey replacing it, but it was okay. It was a needed sacrifice to keep his son in the right path, and knew hed understood it when he fell quiet and went away without saying anything.


    Something like it happened when she saw a stranger taking his youngest by the hand when she came for him to the kindergarten. She only pretended to keep her away from him, but ended up pushing her too strongly that she broke a few of her ribs. Luckily she wasn''t made to pay the hospital bill since she was a wanted criminal, but she did get a fine for not conforming with breaking the ribs, but she kept kicking her with her son in her own arms and breaking a few bones more.


    But such aggression was needed so she didn''t get close to her child ever again. For her family''s sake, she didn''t care.


    Then the secrets started. For some unknown motive, her children started to get away from her. She didn''t know why, and since they weren''t going to talk, she''d force them. What kind of family kept secrets from one another? So she twisted her oldest''s arm. The little shadow wobble ok the thread tied to her neck. Her son responded through cries that she was strange and they didn''t know why. She''d changed. When she let him go, the mark of her hand stayed red on his skin.


    Since he was crying, she hugged him and pat his head. No, there was no reason to cry; he wasn''t a bad child, he just did a bad thing. After all, saying the truth is a good thing every mother had to teach her kid. And her change? It wasn''t motive for worry. It was all for the family.


    Same was breaking a fork in front of her youngest when he didn''t want to eat his greens. It was taking their therapist by their shirt''s collar when they didn''t want to share something about their sons because it was private information. It was knowing what they did, what they watched and who their children talked to at any moment. It was all needed to protect them.


    Was it too much? No, it was love. With something like that it''s never enough, no matter what others or her own sons, said to her. A mother cannot doubt when protecting her family. For them she''d be certain. She''d be confident.


    But not even that was enough. She knew it when she perceived the smell of tobacco and alcohol from her oldest when he came back from school. The excuses turned into claims; the claims, yelling: and the yelling, cursing. He didn''t get that everything she did was for them, but she didn''t felt hurt by that. She didn''t felt mad either. She was calm, so much so that she didn''t remember well how it felt not being so.


    The little shadow swing when the first hit fell. It did again with the second. The third. The fourth. The fifth... It was like that until the tenth. It kept moving when the hits reached twenty. Thirty. Forty. Fifty. Sixty.


    Both, shadow and fists, stopped at sixty one.


    She stood up and looked down. Her son didn''t move. But he was still breathing. Of course he was, what kind of mother would kill her own child? A fake one, she said. Not like her. She was capable of everything in order to raise her kids and protect them. For her family''s sake she''d be certain. She''d be confident.


    And she''d be ruthless.


    The little shadow trembled in her neck like her other two sons did, who watched the scene hiding behind the door. She didn''t notice them, like she didn''t notice the dark figure standing behind them.

 Tale 6 - The Ring

    There''s nothing more painful than loneliness.


    They were sure of this, as they were that the accident that now appeared like a dream had been real, as it was the orphanage bed they woke up everyday. When the primary family disappears, its said that a second one must be found, like friends or partners. But what happens when, no matter how much one looks, this can''t be found?


    Then one finds themselves with the painful loneliness. They didn''t know what to do anymore. Even though they weren''t the only one at the orphanage, everyone else seemed like aliens imposible to understand. How did they know what to say all the time, or when and how to say it? People from school where the same. Why when they copied their expressions they received weird looks and painful silence? The rest of the world seemed far away. Everyone had a place except they... Or maybe they did had one once, and had lost it with that memory that was disappearing like a dream. Like their parents'' faces did.


    Soon they''d have to abandon the orphanage and go into the world, and the thought didn''t let them sleep at night. Once that happened and they took a step outside that building, the doors would close behind them and then they''d be alone both in body and soul. And there wasn''t anything that scared them more.


    It was on a new moon night when they found the little shadow. From the open window of their room, they hold their hands together and threw a prayer to the starry sky: they needed someone. It didn''t matter who they were: a friend, a lover, even a pet. They just wanted someone that''d stay by his side, always. Then their fingers touched the little shadow that fell from the sky like a black feather, and they shook. The shadow stocked to their fingers and slipped through their skin until reaching the palm of their hand, feeling cold against their skin.


    The shadow got up and shape-shifted. It obtained feet and head, arms and torso, and became a small creature with human form that fit in their hand. They, extremely surprised, touched the being with a finger, and immediately the little one hug it tightly. They weren''t sure how, but they could''ve sworn they were seeing the shadow creature smiling, and smiled back. Thus they met their first friend.


    They named the creature Noir. Crude name, perhaps, but the little one seemed to like it. Since he was the size of a doll, they took him with them everywhere on their pocket, on their backpack and even hidden in their cap. Noir learned to talk like them by imitating their voice, and they chatted together when nobody was looking. He learned to eat when they offered candy, though he didn''t need to; and he learned to play when they tossed at him a small ball, though he didn''t understood the rules. They placed him to their side on the pillow when sleeping, and so Noir learned to dream.


    But on a bad day, someone tried to hurt them. A stranger, way older than them, threw them to a car''s interior and tried to take off their clothes. They screamed, but their voice was silenced, and kicked, but their legs were stopped. Noir then transformed. Went from being small to being a human-size creature, and confronted the person who attacked them, throwing the stranger through the front glass of the car. They ran away one free, not before holding Noir''s hand to take him with them.


    Authorities were called and the stranger arrested. They caught their breath back and, through tears, thanked Noir and hugged him. However, there was nothing to thank for, after all, Noir was their friend, and it was normal between friends to help each other.


    Others treated them differently after that. A little more gentle, a little less rough. They found there a place between others that, if not enough yet to make them feel welcomed, did decrease a little the loneliness they felt. Maybe, among that people, they could find another friend. Noir, on another hand, didn''t go back to his original size since, according to him, he needed to be big to protect them better.


    Because of this, they didn''t took him with them anymore, but hid him in their room until they were back. Noir always asked questions when they did; where had they been? With who? What had they done? How? Where would they go tomorrow? What hour were they planning to come back? Couldn''t they stay? Couldn''t he go with them? They thought cute how attached their friend was, and gave him pats on the shoulder to convince him to stay hidden and that they''d be back the same hour next day without a doubt.


    One day, however, they didn''t. They came out of school too late, accompanied by some classmates, worried that something would happen d to them again. When hey entered their room, Noir was outside his hiding spot and, shaking, did more questions than usual to figure out why they weren''t on time. Though they tried to calm him down, it''s seemed like he was about to cry, so they promised him to never do it again. But it''s not wise to promise something that''s outside oneself''s power, and on several occasions, they broke that pact. Every time they did, Noir got more anxious. He started to try and stop them from going out every morning and came to cry seas of translucent tears to convince them. When he achieved it, they ended up spending the day with him and skipping class. And when they couldn''t allow themselves to skip more, Noir was always upset when they came back, even if it was on time, and had to work very hard to making him feel better again.


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    It was tiring. However, they dealt with it. Noir wasn''t just their friend; he was their best friend. The only one they had. Besides, it''s normal for friends to fight, right? And as long as they made up with him in the end, everything was fine, right? And it was true that they''d broken their word with him. It was normal for him to become moody after failing him so much. So it was their responsibility to be the one apologizing every time, the one changing to avoid losing their shared friendship. Because Noir could leave one day and be without them, but they couldn''t.


    However, that thought changed when they birthday came. They received gifts from both the people in the orphanage and some people from school who remembered the date. It was nice to know there were others who cares for them, or that, be it by obligation or true kindness, had them on their mind enough to gift them something. They wanted to celebrate alongside Noir and unwrap together the gifts, but it wasn''t possible.


    Noir destroyed all gifts once he saw them. Not one, not even hose they tried to save, survived. Noir was angry. Why did they have friends he didn''t know about? It wasn''t fair. He was their best friend. He existed to fulfill their dream of never being alone. But Noir was willing to forgive them for their mistake. They just had to forget about everyone else... Though, maybe, it wasn''t them who didn''t get it. Maybe it was everyone else who didn''t understand they didn''t need anyone else, and that''s kept bothering. If that was the case... should Noir take care of the others?


    Something in the shadow''s face changed, and for the first time, scared them. They took his hands and said again and again that he was right. They''d do what he wanted and forget about everyone, so there was no reason for him to go after others. Hearing them, Noir smiled, and hugged them with the same joy he''d done many times before. They shook feeling his touch, and from one day to the other, came back to being a social recluse. They distanced, stopped talking with others and looking them in the face. Loneliness waved at him again saying it had missed them. This time it seemed colder han before, as much as Noir''s skin, in front of who they tried not to mention anyone''s name or talk about anyone''s for too long.


    But not even all their precautions were enough. One night, when they came home late once more and their heart beats strongly thinking of what they''d do to calm down Noir, someone called them out. A classmate had followed them since they''d forgotten something at school, but they could barely pay attention to her. Noir was waiting outside the orphanage. In his face they could see wrath.


    They took their classmate by the hand and ran. They couldn''t let her get hurt, but Noir was faster and didn''t get tired, like how he also didn''t eat, or sleep, or felt pain, or cold, or fear. He wasn''t human. For the first time they asked themselves: what was he? No time to answer. They reached a park but tripped and fell, their hands getting scratched by the ground, so they yelled their classmate to keep running a don''t look back while they took care of Noir. As they stood up, their friend was already there, and lost it after seeing their bloody hands. Who had hurt them like that? Was it that human that was running away screaming? She''d pay for it. She''d pay for it.


    Noir turned into a giant. He wasn''t gonna lose time running after her. Took a size equal to his fury, his dark figure shadowing the sky''s stars, and was about to take a step that''d crunch her under his foot, but they yelled at him to stop. In the middle of panic, a thought crossed there mind. Noir existed to fulfill their wish. And right now, what he wished was to be able to stop him.


    A chain appeared from Noir''s neck that they took with both hands. Their blood spiled from the strength the took it, trying to stop him. It wasn''t enough, the couldn''t stop with jus with that, so they made another wish. If Noir wanted to be their best friend forever, then the right thing would be for him to become human''s best friend.


    Noir turned into a wolf. It was huge, almost as tall as them in his four legs, with pupil-less eyes. He fought against them, who was barely capable of stopping him from advancing. But even that wasn''t enough. Even in that state, he could rebel against them. He could disappear one day and use his nose to trace down anyone he considered a nuisance. They had to make sure he''d be always on sight, always close, and always near enough to stop him. Once more, they made a wish.


    Noir turned into a ring. Hugged their right index and stayed quiet, as if he was a normal ring. They fell on their knees, exhausted. They hold their hands together, as if praying, and breathe again. Blood stained their fingers and wounds beat from the pain. They''d won the battle, but entered an endless war.


    Their wish had been fulfilled. They''d never be alone ever again.


    They stood up slowly, fearing the time of going back to the orphanage with the ring on their hand. When they turned, they found themselves face to face with a tall dark figure that looked at them from above.