dark

A shadow, living and moving, was the thing itself rather than its displacement of light. Perhaps the displacement of light was the image that everyone thought was real. But it was merely a deception, a decoy. The shadow was the thing. Too many people were tricked by the smile, the dead warmth. A world of glitter was in the lie's eye. A roar was in his voice. His body, this treacherous facade, held them all. As the shadow, the thing itself, crept in behind. Tendrils and ash, a touch on the wall, a cold breath. This was it. But we did not see.

[This took a few different turns as I wrote it. It started from what I've been watching too much of recently, then morphed into something else in order to keep writing. It actually took on a little of the James study I am working through. There's also a nod to some Tom Waits lyrics.]