Visible Darkness

The forest is alive with an ethereal glow. The ancient trees shiver with anxiety and excitement. The air swirls and dips in elation. There is a slight nip to the temperature in this glade, thought a very powerful wraith. Now this particular monster should never be capable of such things such as thought. Such inclination would hint to a higher level of intelligence then what the evil shadow was created for. As a consequence of such derelictions by the one who created this abomination, the wraith is now capable of conscious thinking.

The wraith is unsure as to his reasons for coming to this particular glade and at this particular hour. His whole existence has been the sole pleasing of his master- his creator. Not upon this lovely night though, no this night belongs to the shadows. Wandering aimlessly among the wispy yellowed grasses in the middle of this glade, an epiphany is struck. It clasps it’s salient notion and holds on, refusing to give any relief until acknowledged. Shrugging against the direness of the wraith’s melancholy mood, he tilts his head to the heavens above.

Queer these beings of Earth, their plots, deaths, and bickering, has wrought its peril and stress on a being that should feel nothing. An indifference is what he is supposed to be, however something must have gone wrong in his master’s spell. The poor, exhausted wraith has killed many in his master’s name, the wraith has not questioned his master. To do so, would be to expose himself as capable of thought and the master may disband his shadows into mere wisps hidden in the murky aftermath of the sun. It occurs to the wrath he has never seen the sun.

What a miserable existence, the thought crosses his mind and the clouds overhead continue to move on in slow apathetic motions. A wetness slips from his hood and he starts and stumbles to the ground in shock. What is this? Could this be the salt water that comes from his master’s wife, whenever she is sad? Is that what this is? How...odd. How peculiar, maybe the master did make a grave mistake when he had summoned me? Perhaps I should return to him and tell him of my adventure and how I somehow have inherited human emotions and- no I cannot he would end my very existence. I would cease my usefulness to him if I could not kill and finish petty squabbles the soft humans oft got themselves into.

I still see no reason for my return either. If I was not bound to my master through this mistake, then..there is nothing here for me. Still I have never heard of a creature of the night breaking their master’s leash over them. As far as I am aware of our history, there has never been a free wraith. Another devastating thought sweeps its way through his body and he shivers as it passes all the way through his body as well. Wraiths are not evil as many would believe- as we were told- no wraiths are but the tools for humankind to spread their disease. We were never the evil in this world. With this new horrible thought, a sense of calmness and resolution soothes his anxiety.

No I have never been broken, just used the wrong way and in so many ways. A plan begins to form inside his, not so insidious, head and he feels there is hope for himself and others in his predicament. As the plan’s finer details begin to finish inside his head, he tilts his dark bloody eyes up to the stars now shining unimpedided. The clouds have finally released their awful imprisonment, a breath releases from our light shadow.