Everything in this world exists in two forms; there is the physical, tangible form we know from our day to day interactions, and then there is the shadow, the reflection, the negative of the physical form. Many spend their days meandering through life, never stopping to consider what may occur in the shadows. These people live their lives in blissful ignorance of the secrets the shadows hold. However, for most, this fact is a nonissue, as in reality, knowing the truth can be far more terrifying…

Sheila held her bag of groceries tight as she paused to look up at the sky. It was a dark night, but she could plainly see the storm clouds gathering above the city. With an ominous crackle of thunder, she knew she needed to hurry home. She was still several blocks from her new apartment, and she knew it would start raining well before she got to her door, so she decided to take a short cut she had learned recently. She laughed at herself as she strolled down into the alley.

“Wow, talk about a cliché… a girl on her own, in a dark alley, storm clouds in the sky… I feel like I’m in some cheesy horror film.” She laughed again. Sheila held herself confidently. She was a skilled athlete in college, having lead her volleyball and track teams to first place in their respective leagues, and while that had been four years ago, she still maintained her athletic physique. She also had a switchblade in her pocket, just in case.

“Nothing here, just like I thought. I guess even the crooks find this place to cliché to use.” She left the alley and continued toward her apartment; the alley route saved her several minutes off her normal commute from the grocery store, and she knew it well enough to doubt she would find trouble. She chuckled a little, thinking about how silly it was for her to be worried.

This is Adamant City, she thought, the crime rate is so low here that the chances of anything happening are tiny. Anyone who’d do anything is to scared of the Wrath of Magi to have the balls to try!

“My, you’ve got quite the skip in your step there, lady. Good day?” a voice commented from behind her. She turned and saw a short, friendly looking man leaning against the wall of the corner store, reading the paper. She smiled at him,

“Oh, I’m just enjoying a cliché heavy route home. It’s hard not to laugh at it.”

“Hah, yea, I know whatcha mean. Then again, what isn’t cliché heavy these days, eh?”

She laughed “Yea, I guess so. Well, nice talking to you, sir. I’d best get home before it starts raining; don’t want soggy groceries.” She waved and walked off, heading toward the alley up the block. Absorbed in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the man toss his paper to the side and slowly follow her. As she entered the alley, she made note of the flickering EXIT sign about halfway down. A stocky figure stepped out of the door just before she passed it. She couldn’t tell who it was, but she tensed up a little. The man didn’t pay her any mind until a familiar voice rang out from behind her,

“Hey, Ralph. Aren’t you gonna say hello to the lady? No need to be rude there, buddy.” The stocky man turned and put his hand on Sheila’s shoulder,

“Hello, lady. Have you met my buddy Vince?” he rumbled through a dim grin.

“Um… I have, I think. Would you please let go of me?” she asked, nervously…

“Don’t be so stuff, honey; we just wanted to chat with you…” Vince, the short man from the corner store, now stood on her other side. Sheila loosened her grip on her groceries and prepared herself to run, but was pinned against the wall of the building Ralph had come out of before she could react.

“Hey! What are you doing? Let me go!” she barked

“Ooh, feisty… just how I like ‘em,” Vince said with a cold grin, as he knocked her groceries to the side. She saw Ralph rummaging through her purse, but had her gaze forced back to Vince as he gave her a rather crooked grin. “So, speakin’ of clichés, eh…” He chuckled, “I hope you don’t plan on screaming or anything, there’s no one nearby that would hear you anyway.” She grimaced, because she knew he was right. The bar behind them was too loud for anyone inside to hear her, and the rest of the stores within earshot were closed for the night.

“I found her money, Vince, pretty good chunk, too.”

“Very nice! Now then, on to the fun part…” She gave him a vicious look when he reached to remove her shirt.

“What, no date first? You should at least treat me to dinner first.”

“Ha, don’t be a smartass, bitch. It won’t help your situation.” Vince had her firmly pinned, and even if she could get loose, the other guy would grab her before she got away. She was pretty sure Vince was wrong though, because she knew the area well enough to know that if she could buy some time, a patrol car would pass by soon.

“Wow, you must really be pretty sad if this is how you have to get your rocks off. How tiny is it? Three inches?” She forced out a confident giggle, “Not like any real man needs to force a girl to get into her pants.” She felt the sting of his punch before she realized what hit her, but she scoffed at him, “Oh please, my eight year old sister punches harder than you.”

“Fuck you, bitch! I’m gonna show you what kind of trash you really are”¼”

“Vince, you’re getting’ pretty worked up over there…”

“Shut it, Ralph.”

“Oh, so you’re the brains and he’s the dumb muscle, right? Sounds like a pretty bad deal to me. You know he thinks you’re an idiot, right Ralph?” Another punch, it hurt more than the last time, and she could taste blood in her mouth, but she knew her plan was working. “How’d he get you to work with him, Ralph? He promise you something? He’s not gonna give it to you, you’re just the muscle.”

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” She felt it in the gut this time, and she buckled forward, coughing, “Hah, not so tough now, are you?” Her pants were ripped off before she could catch her breath, and she started to worry some. She glanced at the street. “Oh? You’re waiting for the nightly patrol, ain'tcha bitch. Well, this particular officer has the night off tonight. There’s not going to be a patrol car near here for another eight hours. Tch,” he looked at Ralph, who seemed lost in thought, “Ralph, buddy, remember who we are. Don’t take the words of some smartass bitch over your friend.”

“Al- Alright Vince…”

Sheila was much more concerned now than she had been. She looked around to see if there was anything she could use to fight back, to defend herself… then she saw it.

“What, so you’re that pathetic that you need THREE people to handle ONE girl? Wow, I guess it’s even smaller than I thought…”

“Three? Do you suck at math, bitch? It’s just me and Ralph here, and we’re both going to have a lot of fun with you before anyone else shows up.” He let out a shrill laugh, and looked at Ralph, who seemed confused. “What? Are you still thinking?”

“No, V- Vince… Th- There ARE four shadows…”

“Come on now; you’re the money counter, I know you can count.” Vince turned and saw that there were, in fact, four shadows cast in the light of the EXIT sign. He recognized his own, Ralph's, and the woman’s, but the fourth one stood there, silently, as if there were a fourth person present. “What the hell? Must be some trick of the light. Ralph, go check and make sure we don’t have a guest.”

“Gotcha.” Ralph moved toward the source of the shadow, but there was no one there, “There’s nothin’, Vince. The sign must be broken.”

“You know, scum like you are the reason zealots like Magi flock to Adamant City.”

Both men snapped back to the shadow with the sound of the disembodied voice. Sheila, too, was shocked, and was entirely unsure what to think.

“Who’s there?!” Vince shouted, “Get out here, or I’ll kill this bitch!” Sheila felt a sudden pressing of metal against her neck that she recognized as a knife.

“A hostage? That’s even lower than I expected of you.” Their eyes widened as the shadow slowly stepped away from the wall, towards them. The details of a sturdy man in a ragged black trench coat and a worn down hat came into focus as the shadow melted away. “I’d suggest you let her go, unless you’d prefer to take her place.”

Vince laughed again, obviously shaken but trying to feign confidence. “Just who the fuck do you think you are? Just because you can do some fancy magic trick, doesn’t mean you’ve got what it takes to handle me and my buddy. Ralph!”

Ralph jumped towards the man, with a knife in his hand. In one fluid movement, he caught Ralph by the face and slammed him into the wall behind him. He shot Vince a rather intense scowl.

“Who do you think you are.” Only one of the man’s eyes could be seen, his right eye obscured by his hair, but his left eye was a sickly yellow color, and had a slit where it should have a pupil. The look it wore was so intense that Sheila felt like all the air had been forcefully sucked from her lungs. By the pale, shaking appearance of Jake, it wasn’t any better to be in direct line of that eye.

“Wha- Wha- What… What are you!?!?!” Vince stammered, “Are you some kind of freak? Monster!?” His knife left Sheila’s throat and aimed itself towards the man, but it shook — he shook — with pure horror of what could be hidden behind that eye.

“I’m just a concerned citizen,” the man chided, in a tone that sent a shiver down Sheila’s spine.

Vince glanced at Ralph’s limp figure and then back at the shadowy figure, “You- YOU! You- You’r- You’re him! The- The- You’re the Crim Reaper!”

Without shifting his gaze an inch, the man let out a great laugh, “Is that what they call me now? Haha, that’s horrible! Ah, oh man,” he wiped a tear away from his hidden eye, “The old hag warned me that would happen if I picked this name. Ah well, haha, nothing I can do about it now…” He moved and began to unbuckle the straps on his left arm, still laughing softly, and never letting his gaze leave Vince’s eyes.

Vince started to inch forward, and Sheila backward, trying to distance herself from what was about to happen.

“Miss, you might want to keep your head down,” He said to her, “because the Crimson Reaper’s Judgment is unbiased, and I’d rather not have you caught up in it by accident.”

Just as he said this, Vince lunged forward, to stab him. His hand caught the knife, and his stoic expression changed to bloodthirsty sneer. Sheila instinctively covered her head, and all she saw was a deep red flash, and then a thick, jet black cloud filled the air.

When she finally raised her eyes, she saw the two men hanging from the wall across from her, tied in red chains. They were both ghostly white, as if something had literally scared them to death. Beneath them, the words, Citizen’s Arrest, C.R. had been carved into the wall. She stared in disbelief of what had happened…

“Oye! Wha’s goin on out ‘ere?” she turned and saw the owner of the bar sticking his head out of the door next to her. She met his eyes and instantly covered up her legs. “My word! You ok there ‘un?” Sheila nodded slowly, and then looked up at the two men hanging from the wall. “G’dammit, tha’s the fourth time this week! Oye, Franky, call the cops up an’ tell ‘em we got another one. They do anythin’ to you ‘un? Osh, thassa nasty lookin’ shiner. Franky, call an ambulance too, got a victim this time.” The man then helped her up and led her inside.

September 2nd, 2039,

Dear Journal...

...do I really need to write “Dear Journal,” every time? That’s so cheesy. Meh. I’m only doing this because the doctor said to. I don’t believe her shit about it being good for me, but I’m sure she’s gonna want to check on it from time to time, so I best have at least a few entries. I may as well introduce myself to you…. Journal? Book? Paper? I’ll go with Paper Entity. So, Paper Entity. My name is Andy Ashling. It’s short for Andrew. I don’t like my name. I’m 14, and a Freshman in High School. Well, hardly, given it’s only the first week of school, but…

Nevermind that. I don’t want to turn this into some stream of consciousness drivel that they can use to say I’m insane or something. I’m supposed to write about something that happened this week… hmm…

Oh! I got it. How about the fact that the damn football meatheads have decided that I’m their new favorite toy? This week sucked. I’ve been shoved in lockers, trashcans, and worst of all, someone’s gym bag… blegh… School’s off to a great start, if you ask me! I hope the sarcasm is easily seen there… I’m not some friggin masochist… Meh. This is stupid.

Andy Ashling