Walter Dash: Was... he.... fingered? -SNRK- AHAHAHAHAHA- Yes. In a manner of speaking he was. -wipes tear from her eye, still grinning- “Mr. Shadow” scratched him up a bit inside with his claw. XD And now you’ve got me thinking dirty things that aren’t allowed yet in the story.

Kura-Sama: Well, that shadow really... um.... would like to maim you? O0;;

Glad you enjoyed the last chapter; I was very amused while writing it.

Chao-Chan: Stevie... I have NO IDEA what the heck you just said. XD Then again, it’s kinda late at night and I can’t think while eating my apple cube.

afk: lol Don’t worry, you’re not the only one. I’m putting that in all my stories because readers are starting to make a habit of it. I’m glad you’re enjoying the story! :3

Oh, this chapter you will find a very.... LARGE twist. Prepare to be surprised, everybody!

Breathing Shadow

He walked up to the attic, spiders skittering around on either side of his face as he ascended with single-minded purpose. The monster was up there- and he was going to kill it. Each footfall creaked and swayed slightly, though his tunnel vision didn’t allow him to see the ladder stairs or the last step as he finally reached the small, stuffy room. There were no boxes, no walls, no ceiling, just a blurred brown reality that encircled him and IT. Nothing else mattered.

Blood pounded in his ears as he slowly lifted his arm holding a knife. Too late, he realized he was moving in slow motion, while IT moved unhindered. He screamed as the shadow was suddenly flying towards him. Long, thick tendrils wrapped around his neck and IT was opening its mouth wider and wider until-

Brian woke with a shriek faltering on his lips, throat burning. Gasping for air, he rolled out of bed and stood with one hand resting on the sheets, legs shaking as his lower abdomen and back ached. With a miserable moan, he staggered from his room and down three doors to the bathroom. He had a plastic cup waiting to the side of the sink to pour himself a drink.

“Creepy old house is getting to me.” Brian grumbled into its rim as he glanced up at the mirror. Squinting, he leaned toward the reflection, then flicked the light on. “What the fuck?”

Three dark rings ran around his throat, the edges tinged with green and yellow. Brian touched the bruises lightly with the tips of his fingers, grimacing at the contact. No wonder his throat felt so sore- he should have known it wasn’t just the dust irritation this time. But how had he managed this? Even getting twisted up in blankets couldn’t done that much damage- it looked like someone had tried to strangle-

Dream images rushed back to Brian, paling his cheeks. No, he was being silly. He’d been having similar nightmares since the first night- they didn’t mean anything. He must have had some sort of accident without realizing it.

Upon returning to his room, Brian jumped as an upbeat jingle made its self known. Shaking, he unzipped his backpack, pulling out a cell phone. “H-Hello...? Ma? What- It’s three in the morning-”

oOo

Carla pulled into the driveway leisurely, light pink polished nails thrumming against the steering wheel. So, this was her latest purchase. How dull. Parking directly in front of the porch, she slipped from her seat, wiping wrinkles from her black business skirt and fussing with her dark hair.

“Brian?” She pursed her lips, hands on her hips. If her son thought she was going to walk across that rickety porch in high heels- Oh, hell. The brat was probably skulking around on one of the higher floors, ignoring her. “Brian Hark!”

Carla stomped up the three porch steps with as much poise as she could muster and yelped as she caught her heel in a crack. Yanking it out with a growl, she slammed the door open. “BRIAN ADAM HARK!”

oOo

Brian paused, eyes turning to the bathroom door. Had he heard something? His mother should be showing any moment now.... No, she usually took detours, she couldn’t have arrived already. Picking up his razor again, he tilted his chin, continuing to shave his morning stubble.

oOo

“Brian! You can’t ignore me, I’m your mother!” Carla called up the stairs sharply before wandering into the kitchen.

“Wait a minute!”

Carla turned. “Don’t you tell me to ‘wait’, young man!” Her heels clicked against the creaking floor boards as she followed Brian’s voice. “Where are you?”

“I’m in the living room, just hold on a minute.”

Frowning, Carla circled around a corner and stalked into a dim room of sheet-covered furniture. She sneered up at the wilting blue wall paper. “I do hope you’re working on this room next.”

“I am.”

oOo

Brian jumped down the stairs three at a time, ignoring how the movement jarred his aching lower half. A hand slid against the groaning banister with each leap. He had heard his mother calling up the stairs that time. “Ma? Sorry, I was in the bathroom...”

Eyebrows raised, he peeked in the kitchen, then around the stairs and in the living room. Now where did she go? “Heeello? Mom! …Did she go outside?”

Opening the front door, Brian sighed upon seeing his mother’s car. So she -had- shown up. And here he was beginningto thinkhis mind was playing tricks on him. He walked across the porch, searching the lawn doubtfully. As if she would’ve gone “exploring”. Just as he was about to turn back inside and check if she snuck upstairs, he glimpsed movement to the side of the house. “M- Pete?”

The distant splotch of blonde hair disappeared into the thick fringe of trees by the road.

“Pete! What are you doing?!” Brian yelled across the lawn, hopping off the side of the porch to give chase. He was worried now. First Pete disappeared without saying a word, then he showed up uninvited, acting all creepy, and now his friend was lurking around the house? Something wasn’t right. Maybe Pete had bumped his head or something- he had been bleeding before.

“HEY! Pete!” Brian doubled over as he reached the trees, hands on his knees. Ouch, physical exertion definitely wasn’t his thing. Catching his breath, he leaned against a tree, looking around for another hint of his friend’s presence. “PETE! Come on, you’re really starting to freak me out now!”

Grumbling to himself, Brian began walking again, his strides quickly lengthening as his annoyance grew, carrying him farther from the road and deeper into the woods towards the back of the house. He was getting real sick and tired of all this weird shi-

“WOA!”

Brian flailed his arms, legs flipping as he tumbled over an unexpected incline. Dirt crushed into his face as he slid down and down and down... and rolled into a pile of boxes. Cursing and spitting mud, he rubbed at his eyes and glared around. Well, at least he knew where the attic boxes went- if the noxious stench was anything to go by.

Stumbling over boxes upon boxes, more boxes than he recalled ever bringing from the attic, Brian made his way to the trench of loose dirt that marked his fall. “HELLO? PETE! I fell down a ditch! Get your crazy ass over here and help me back up!”

No answer. Brian waited a few minutes before his shoulders drooped and he began the unsteady trudge to the other side of the dirt hole, searching for some place with a steady enough hold to drag himself up.

Dirt sprinkled down on his head from above and he looked up hopefully. A rabbit stared down, nose twitching, then skittered away as he yelled, throwing a clod of dirt. “PETE, YOU ASSHOLE! PETE! MOM?! MA! SOMEBODY GET ME OUT OF THIS HOLE!”

Brian stomped his foot through one of the boxes piled beneath him, sending a cloud of gray dust into the sky as he toppled backward, burying himself in collapsed boxes. He screamed again, this time in utter horror as a severed hand slipped from a flap of cardboard, shriveled and followed almost instantly by a foot, a single, charred finger, and more of the foul-smelling ash.

Brian screamed until he thought he heard something in his vocal chords snap and his voice was lost, giving way to weak whimpers. Digging his way through the boxes, he lost all sense of direction and panicked, searching for any sign of light peeking through to point him upwards. He was blinded by ash, almost thankful for the small favor as he felt what he was sure were more limbs pressing in upon him. He let out a rasping cry of relief as he burst from the pile, gasping and rubbing at his eyes with dirty hands.

Brian immediately regretted doing so as he came face to face with Pete- or what used to be Pete. His friend’s face was frozen;twisted into that sick grin, skin peeling back to reveal writhing maggots, and those smiling eyes Brian had always looked up to were missing altogether, wide open lids revealing deep, dark holes that dripped with cracked, blood and strings of drytissue.

Brian retched, pushing the motionless corpse away. He crawled over the boxes, heaving in sobs and dry hacking as he clawed his way to a side of the ditch. Digging his hands into the semi-loose dirt, he searched out roots, rocks, anything to assist him in climbing, and pulled himself up inch by inch. He didn’t know how long it took to reach the top, but the adrenaline surging through his veins left him feeling as though it were mere seconds and hours in one go. In his mind, the dead were creeping after him, slowly but surely following his trail. He had to escape.

Brian was out of the woods in record time, racing for the house. He had to find his mother, he had to get her and leave. There was someone- or something- sick in play here and he had no intention of having any further part in it.

“MOM! Mom, hurry, we have to leave!” Brian kicked the front door open, having forgotten to completely close it when he left. “Mom, where are you?”

“Brian, I’m in here- What is the fuss?”

Living room. Brian rushed in, only to freeze in the door way. He began to shake, his voice thin and wavering. “Mamma?”

Carla’s silhouette sat on an uncovered gray couch, just to the side of a lit window, a strange dark stain surrounding her. Brian felt the ghost of a shiver run up his spine, a feeling he’d come to dread these past few days, and pushed away the nagging thought that he could guess what the stain could be. He had to unstick his throat before it allowed him to choke, “Mamma, it’s time to go home.”

“No, darling, I’m fine right here.”

‘Darling’? When did she ever call him ‘darling’? Brian stepped forward a step, every fiber of his being fighting against the movement. His instincts screamed at him to run, leave her there, and get away from this place as fast as possible. He held out a shaking hand, knowing he was too far away for her to even reach him yet. “Mom, please, let’s go home-”

“I said-” Carla’s voice tightened, sounding angry, as if she were grinding each word out through her teeth. It deepened with each word until it was twisted from any resemblance to her at all, rumbling through the dim room like thunder. “-we’re staying HERE.”

Brian dropped his hand, feet carrying him backwards with or without his say so, until his back hit wall. He was just a couple steps away from the door. A dark shadow pooled around the bottom of the couch, seeping down from under cushions, and his eyes were locked on it. The shadow rose, forming slowly into the vague shape of a man. It looked hazy, yet almost solid enough to touch had Brian dared to try. He didn’t.

“Mamma.... Get away from it...”

“A little too late for that.” The shadow chuckled, tapping where Brian could tell her forehead was. Though he couldn’t see her clearly, he watched as the silhouette of her shoulders slumped. He turned away at the solid thud of his mother’s head falling to the living room rug.

The sound broke the chilled spell of fear that kept him immobile. Brian dodged around the doorway and dashed for the front door. He could see the line of light just around the corner when he heard a loud slam. The light disappeared and a dark flash passed him in a blur, ruffling his hair inpassing breeze.

Brian turned towards the kitchen, hoping to reach a window, but the flash of shadowy movement again blocked his way. Each direction he turned was guarded- except the stairs. Throwing his hands over his face against the distressing attacks on his escape, he finally gave in and darted up the steps to the second floor. Again, he was “guided” to the second set of stairs, sent scrambling into the hall of the third floor...

Brian collapsed in front of the attic ladder, legs shaking as his entire body throbbed. His chest was heaving, fighting for air that he was too exhausted to claim. When it became clear he couldn’t rise, something seized the back of his t-shirt, dragging him forward.

Brian struggled wearily, but his muscles were tensed to the point of pain, allowing the fear of what was coming to paralyze him. He was going to die, die like Pete and mother, and god knows who else. Brian knew this as he was dragged up to the attic, step by step, and was numbed by the knowledge.

At reaching the top, Brian was pulled to his feet and tossed forward. He fell against a wooden beam and turned slowly, arms shaking with the effort of holding himself steady. Just as heexpected, the shadowloomed tall before him in the small, unlit room, both blending with the darkness and standing sharp in contrast somehow. The only true color it held was the yellow of its eyes.

It grinned, sharp gray teeth appearing almost white against its endless expanse of inky black. “Be proud... As my last victim, you save another from taking your fate.... Consider yourself a hero.” An arm rose, unnaturally long, sharp fingers reaching towards the tapered ceiling. They flicked closed, leaving only the index to lower and point towards Brian’s stomach. The shadow moved forward.

Brian finally found the ability to scream for the last time as the long, curved claw came closer and closer, then, in a haze of movement, jerked up. He froze, choking on the upsurge of blood that was rushing up his throat, agony lacing his every nerve until a sudden numbness overcame him. His head rolled limply, falling forward onto his chest, and he had a brief glimpse of the shadow’s arm embedded in his chest, a long, deep, bloody gash running up from his stomach. A red froth of shredded entrails oozed from the wound and Brian barely managed to wonder how he was still alive before darkness overcame him.

oOo

There was a second or two of the blind sensation of floating and Brian looked around wildly, seeing only an endless sea of pitch black with small splashes of rainbow, like spilled oil... A strange glowing film of green obscured his vision. He could feel nothing beyond an intense sense of stretching- then there was an audible snap and a white light exploded across his vision, dazzling his eyes. He wasn’t just hovering in nothingness; he was flying, spiraling towards the light....

Somethingblack moved in front of the light. The shadow. It grew and grew until all he could see was a wide, gaping mouth of darkness even more black than the void he had been in. Confused and frightened, Brian wrenched himself from the insistent, invisible pull that tugged him upward. With a silent scream he’d only uttered in nightmares, Brian was sent spinning as a green ball of light into oblivion, the shadow’s enraged roar echoing behind. The sound was muted, distorted as if it came from a long distance... but it got closer and louder until there was a lurch and Brian’s eyes snapped open. The enraged screech was clear as day, and closer than he cared for it to be.

Brian was relieved to find he wasn’t green anymore, less visible,but he was still floating. And back in the attic. Hestared down at the shadow as it kneeled over his mutilated body, screaming its fury. Brian gasped.

Noooo! He couldn't be dead! Nononoooo!

It took a moment of disoriented flailing, but Brian managed to lower himself from the ceiling to perch amongst the thickcoating of duston top of another, higher wooden beam. A spider startled and flipped away on a tiny thread of web from thedistressed annoyance. Brian peeked over at his corpse and shuddered, then down at... well.... whatever body he had now. Holding up his hands, there was only a vague disturbance in the air that curved around his fingers to create their shape. It was as he squirmed around to see the rest of his transparent self that the shadow looked up.

Brian froze, feeling those piercing yellow eyes burning across him. The shadow rose slowly from its crouch and lifted a finger, crooking it in silent demand. So, his murderer wanted him to come over for a visit? Hell no. With a leap that set the oldbeam creaking, Brian tumbled through the air towardsa wall. Instead of crashing as naturally expected, he flew right through and fell, landing hard in the front yard. Gasping for a breath he didn’t need, Brian scrambled to find his feet and ran. The road was close, maybe if he could just get away from the house, he could- Do what? Well, it didn’t matter, so long as he got away from here!

But he didn’t get away. He crashed into something as soon as he stepped foot on the gravel driveway. Some sort of invisible barrier. Groaning, Brian rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself to his knees, head spinning. Why was he able to feel pain if he was dead?

Standing, he glared uncomprehendingly at the shimmering air that surrounded the driveway and extended all the way back to the road until it disappeared into the growled, realizing he would be met by the same resistance if he attempted escaping the property from any direction. Taking a deep breath, he straightened and looked back at the house. There was no sign of the shadow, but he could sense a dark presence lingering on the second floor, probably watching from one of the windows.

Considering the corpse ditch in the woods, Brian doubted there was any real safety in being outside instead of in- but, considering the shadow was in at the moment... out seemed the best option. He was confused and scared and.... hungry? No, ghosts can’t get hungry, that was ridiculous. Brian rubbed his stomach all the same, hoping he couldsooth the empty sensation away, and found himself walking into the trees. He stopped before the barely visible barrier, feeling its warning thrum as he leaned as close as possible without touching, staring out at the road.

Each car that passed made him lurch with the desire to eat. The people in the fast-moving vehicles held such appetizing glows- Brian frowned. That didn't seem like a very -ghost- thing to think. Whining in the back of his throat, he suck to his knees, rocking in place as he ached for nourishment and answers to his questions.