Clarke stood there with his oversized copper watering can in his
hand, precisely as he did every morning. He was exceptionally proud,
you see, of his heirloom tomatoes and enjoyed his few moments each
every morning tending to them. It was a typical September English
morning, the evening rain had refreshed the air and a soft gentle
breeze played with the tall branches of the numerous trees that
surrounded his secret garden. High in the branches a variety of
song birds gaily sung their joyful melodies. He smiled satisfied
at the idyllic scene and took another gulp of his steaming black
coffee. He then started cheerfully humming Beethoven to himself
as he focused on the enjoyable duty at hand.
was just watering the famed Rollings yellow tomato plant when all
of a sudden unexpected movement captured his attention from the
very corner of his eye .He abruptly turned, uncertain as to quite
what to expect and as he did so he dropped the watering can and
a small quantity of his coffee spilled from his mug and sloshed
onto his bare leg.
he exclaimed as he rubbed his scolded skin.
own shadow! I am jumping at my own bloody shadow
retrieved the watering can and placed the coffee mug securely onto
the safety of the patio table and continued with his task his sore
leg now a constant reminder of his jumpiness.
more bleedin coffee today for me he mused.
he again noticed something from his peripheral vision and once more
turned quickly determined to try and catch it. He realized that
it was once again just his shadow, yet something seemed oddly amiss.
He stood there in his usually tranquil garden and vigilantly examined
the sight in front of him. It was at this curious moment that he
became highly sentient of all the other shadows which he all over
the garden, the eeriest of which were upon his garden wall. He had
built that wall just recently to separate his vegetables form his
beloved roses and he had lovingly and painstakingly spent three
months constructing it by hand. Julian had been delighted to discover
the ancient weather worn rocks being sold off at a very reasonable
price at a local church auction. The rocks had apparently been recycled
from the grounds from th e local centuries old churchyard to raise
funds for a new roof.
diligently waved his watering can swiftly up and down and side to
side in an attempt to trick his pesky shadow. Yet, it obligingly
and somehow now annoyingly followed his precise movements and gestures.
He stopped suddenly, and so did it. He started to develop the paranoid
sensation that it was somehow mocking him.
am going nuts he thought. No more late night horror
movies for me. They are having a definite affect on my sense of
several minutes of this, he concluded that it was indeed simply
his overly active imagination and returned back to the pleasurable
task at hand of watering in doing so turning his back once more
on his shadow
It was then he felt it; a sudden tightness around
the nape of his neck. He frantically endeavored to turn to see who
or what was attacking him, yet he could not see anything. He feebly
attempted to scream, but the air in his lungs became quickly exhausted.
Moments later as he fell to the grassy ground in his very dying
moment he watched in horror as a familiar dark blob scurried through
his tomato plants and back onto the garden wall where the other
shadows appeared to be dancing in celebration