I glanced at him, the dark figure, flat, as if leaning down on the floor. His color seemed to be lighting down at the edges of his perimeter.
He changed shapes. One minute, he is as tall as a pole, and sometimes he is as small as a rubber ball. His body seemed unusual. One minute, he would be round. The next minute, he is a square. What is he?
He has no features. Like a plain black face, lying flat on the floor. The ebony colored figure leaves my proximity, and sometimes re-installs itself. Once, I remember, when I was a child I tried to explain it to him that he could not go after me like a hungry lion when I get out to play. After that, I realized he would peter away whenever I was indoors, or in the dark.
He mocks me. Till this very day, he does. At the very moment, as I write, he mimics me, as if it is his only job.
As I run after my life from this evil nightmare, I tell him to stop following me. But, he is not listening; that is because he simply cannot.
He cannot talk. He cannot whisper. He just leaves, copying me, as if he does not have a life of his own. I tried explaining this to the witty person he is, but his mental level is probably way to high, because he could not understand a word as to what I was saying.
He is deaf. Yes. Smart? I do not know. Interesting? Yes. But, who is he? Why is he here? Why does he look like an evil monster? Why so de-shaped? Why?
He curls up behind me, at times, and surprises me. His outlines cannot be seen. Sometimes, he looks like truffles. Sometimes, I cannot even tell if he is around.
One day, I asked him what he was. He gave me an incredulous look and said, “I am your shadow.”