Shadow of the Day

Alright, with Footloose over, I think it's about time that I start blogging again. So it is my hope and desire to post at least once a week.

In this post, I am adding a story that I wrote in Creative Writing (have I mentioned how much I love that class?) The prompt is the first line.

Catching the signal from one of her friends, Angela brushed her skirt, took a deep breath, and walked towards where he was sitting. Her shadow trailed behind her.

She reached him, sat down on the seat next to him. Her eyes batted shyly. She looked down, then back at him. She sent a burning red sensation up her neck and into her cheeks.

"Hi. Um, I'm Angela. You know, from English?"

"Oh, yeah. Hey. So how are you liking the dance?"

"Much better now that I have someone to sit next to. You don't mind, do you?" She lowered her face again, creating a look of innocence. He just smiled.

"Of course not. Do your friends want to come, too?" He craned his neck to look at where she ahd been standing with her group only minutes before. With a pang she realized that it wasn't her he liked. She suppressed her horror and fury and despair. She pushed it down, and even further down still, out into her shadow.

The dark tendrils of shadow twisted up around the metal of the chair, crawling up his back with sharp pricks. He didn't feel them. They never did, until the shadow enclosed on the back of their necks, and ice shot through them. He started trembling.

"Hey, are you okay?" Angela put a warm hand on his knee.

"Y-Yeah. Just a little chilly in here. I think I'm going to go get some hot chocolate." He tried to stand up, but her shadow latched on harder, forcing him to stay still.

"No, you stay here. I'll get it for you." Angela stood up, smoothing her pink, fluffy skirt, and skipped to the table of refreshments. Annmarie looked over and nodded twice, smiling darkly. Ah, the signal. Angela sipped at the steaming cup of hot chocolate as she returned to him.

His head was leaning back, mouth slightly open as if her were still trying to slip a breath in. His eyes were wide . . . and lifeless. Angela touched his skin. Cold. Deathly cold. She grinned a hideous grin, eyes gleaming black as her shadow grasped her ankles. This had been fun. She put the styrofoam cup in his hand, and walked away.

Voila! A story of epic disturbing proportions!! I hope you enjoyed it.