The Shadow

She could feel it. Call it instincts, all it experience, call it woman's intuition. But she knew that someone was following her. Having had to perform some emergency shopping at the pharmacy for her sick baby, the road back to her house lies silent, with only the streetlights for company.

Remembering the cases of theft and assault near the area, Natalia clenched her purse tighter to her stomach, and quickened her pace back home. After a few minutes, she could almost hear the footsteps of whoever was following her. She started to run towards the direction of her house, as quickly as she could, while taking care not to let go of her purse.

"Screaming won't help", she thought to herself. It would only attract more undesirables that could be lurking in the area.

However, just as she was about to reach her street, she felt her foot trip on a crack on the road. Before she could curse her luck, she fell flat on the ground. Before she got up, she managed to turn around, and saw a figure dashing closer towards her. Cursing her own bad luck, she braced herself for the inevitable.

But nothing came. Instead, she heard a scream come from behind her. As she quickly stood up and turned around, she saw a patch of darkness at the street, where no street lamps shone. From there, she could hear the sound of punches. She saw the shadowy figure of the thief, who seemed to be fighting...someone, but she couldn't see who.

"Where are you?! Come out! Come out and fight like a man!"

The thief couldn't see who it was he was fighting with. All he knew was that the attacks came from all angles, and he couldn't feel his attacks land on anything.

With one more well-placed hit (and with the sound of a cracked bone) , the thief was brought to his knees. He cried out in pain.

"Please! No more! I'm sorry! I won't do it ever again!"

"You tell your all of your friends. Never touch that woman again. Ever. Unless they want to die a horribly. And trust me, I know horrible."

"Y-yes! Yes! Anything you say!"

Natalia suddenly felt a shiver down her spine. The voice of the person attacking the thief...it sounded all too familiar. Once the thief ran away, she approached the spot where he was. However, she couldn't find anyone there anymore.

While she was looking, she suddenly felt someone behind her. But she did not feel afraid. She was all too familiar with this presence.

"Natalia..."

She couldn't believe it. It was him! Right as she was about to turn around...

"STOP, NATALIA!"

She stopped in her tracks. She was shocked.

"Please, Natalia. You can't turn around. If you do, I have to leave."

"Dan? Is that you? It's you, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's me."

"Why, Dan? Why can't I turn around? You've been missing for the past few weeks! I was so worried! Our daughter, she's..."

"Sick, I know. Natalia, I want you to listen closely to me. I can't be with you right now. Some things have...happened. I've...been changed, transformed against my will. I can't face you the way I am right now. I can't even go out normally anymore."

"What?! That doesn't make any sense! But I..."

"Natalia! Please, listen. I don't have much time.  I know things are hard right now. Trust me, I know. But you have to believe me when I say that I'm trying my best to rectify this situation. I will fix it. I will meet you and our beautiful daughter again. But until then...I will be watching over you. Protecting. Guarding. You won't see me, but I will always be watching."

"No, Dan..please don't go....don't leave me again."

"Sorry, Natalia. I have to go...but I will always be nearby. I will be your shadow."

Crying, Natalia finally turned around, but there was no one there. Not anymore.

You've changed

"You've changed."

"Well, it HAS been a couple of years."

"No, I mean, REALLY changed."

"Yeah, well, you too."

"Erm...you look...different."

"Oh yeah I get that a lot."

"You almost look like you've...transformed."

"Been on a new slimming program lately."

"I didn't mean it that way. It's not just the outer appearance..."

"I've also been feeling more confident lately. That might be what you're referring to?"

"No...you're..more....devilish?"

"Ahh, that."

"I mean, the horns, the tail..."

"The red skin?"

"Yeah."

"I got an offer to become a Demon, and I took it."

"Okayyy....that explains a lot."

"Feeling better?"

"Nah, not really. I mean, you DID just destroy an entire village full of innocents, which also includes my wife and children."

"Oh, sorry 'bout that. Didn't know you're staying here now."

"But you did wipe out my mother-in-law too. She was always nagging me on how to treat my wife."

"So we good?"

"Yeah."

"Shall we continue then?"

"Where was I?"

"You were about to try plunging your sword at me."

"Oh, that. Yeap, let's continue. Here I come!"

The greatest comedy of all

He glanced at his phone. It was already 1.45pm. John was late. Again. Even though he was reading the newpaper to bide his time, it's annoying to always have to wait for John. Especially when the coffeeshop staff always gives these weird stares. But then again, it might be due to him having sat there for more than 20 minutes and not having ordered anything.

"Hey Mike!"

"Finally", Mike muttered under his breath.

As John took his seat across Mike, he noticed the cold stare that he was getting. He was about to ask what is it all about, but then he remembered that Mike has gastric, but still had to wait for him to get started. Meekly, he said,

"Sorry I'm late, man. The jam was terrible."

Mike stared at John, but then realized that John looked genuinely sorry. He gave a sigh, and assured John that he wasn't angry. After all, how could he be angry at him, who has been his friend since primary school?

John's face instantly lit up and gave the happiest smile you could imagine. They ordered their food, and both of them was wolfed down their food with incredible speed when it arrived. Now the staff was giving them stares for a whole other reason.

"What's in the movies now, Mike? Feel like catching one?"

"Hmm...not much here. What kind of movies do you wanna watch?"

"Erm...comedies, I suppose? These are some gloomy days."

Mike adjusted his spectacles, and looked at John. That was not the face of someone who has had a gloomy day in his life. But he knew that John was incredible at hiding his feelings. He scanned through the movie screening times in the papers, which was surprisingly more effective than using the phone, as the paper showed screening times for multiple cinemas at once.

"There's not much in terms of comedies. Ah wait! There might be...oh no, nope. My mistake."

"Is there one?"

"Yes, but...it's the kind you hate. You know, the slapstick kind."

"Oh no, not that kind."

John groaned. Mike knew he hates slapstick comedy. On hindsight, it might have been better if he had just said that there's no comedies showing. For he knew that John would start on his speech.

"You know, I just don't get it. How can people think of slapstick as a kind of comedy? It's just people falling left and right, and exaggerating everything."

"Well...", Mike tried to salvage the situation.

"Some people like it, I guess. They don't have to think as much. They just...shut off their brains."

"Yeah, that might be so, but sometimes, it just feels dumb."

Mike whipped out his phone, and furiously typed in something.

"According to Wikipedia, something can be considered a comedy as long as it makes people laugh. As long as people laugh, then it's considered comedy, I guess."

John still had that look in his eye. Mike knew it wasn't over. He quickly took a sip of his coffee before John started again.

"If that's comedy, then how about works like The Divine Comedy? I don't think going to Hell is considered funny."

"It might be...for some."

John raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, think about it, John. We're living here, in this world. And this world, it's a cruel one. It's not the most forgiving one, to be sure. So we gotta do what we can to survive, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So while we're trying our hardest to survive, we tend to do...mistakes. Sometimes we hurt people. Sometimes we do bad decisions."

"Okay..." John could see that Mike's face had taken a serious tone.

"Don't you think it's funny, then, that even when we're doing all this, we're being judged? That our actions that we do to continue living are being judged? And that we might be punished after we die?"

John was silent.

"I think it's laughable, John. To be honest, I'm not quite sure how to make sense of all these afterlife stuff. I know it can't be proven, but it can't be disproved as well. So...I just laugh it off."

Both of them went silent. The mood of the entire table went into a sombre tone.

"John...what do you think about life?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think there's any meaning to it? What are we here for?"

"Erm..I don't know, Mike. I just try to live the best I can."

"What if...there's no meaning? What if we're just here...because we are? What if all those people who are looking, seeking for the meaning of life, the ones going on their spiritual journeys and such, are just wasting their time and effort?"

"Then...the joke's on them."

Both of them sniggered.

"Life..the greatest comedy of them all."

The nameless soldier

I can feel my time coming, dear diary. But I have no regrets. I've lived a long and fulfilled life, with a great family all around me. However, I can't go to my grave with this secret. This secret, that I'm going to tell you, and only you. Perhaps one day one of my family members will find this, and they will learn of it as well. Though by that time I'll be long gone from this world. This is the story about him, the time we spent together in that dreaded battlefield. This is about the nameless soldier.

I still remember that time, when I was still a young journalist. I got sent to the front of the battlefields to cover the war efforts of the Allied forces. They were locked in a struggle against the Japanese army. As I was transported to a relatively 'safe area', I still saw my fair share of combat, and the horrors that war brings. But this isn't about that. This is about him. That man that I met during my first week in the outpost.

As I was still acclimatizing to life on the front lines, I got to know most of the soldiers stationed at that outpost. However, one day when I was walking along an area where an intense firefight took place the day before, I saw someone. Another man, someone I didn't know, was travelling along the area, though the way he moved was...different. Despite dressed as an Allied soldier, he didn't move like one. He moved with a carefree manner, almost with a spring in his step. Almost as if he was happy to be there.

When I got back to the outpost, I asked the other soldiers about him. They snickered among themselves, and told me that "it'd be better if I asked him myself". After getting the directions to his bunk, I decided to approach this man. In his bunk, he seemed as if he was meditating.

"Erm...hi there. Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

He had a look of surprise in his face, but slowly he smiled at me.

"Ah! I saw you in the battlefield earlier! You must be that reporter, right?"

He extended a handshake, which I gladly obliged.

"Yeah, but...how did you know?"

"I know almost everyone here. So when I saw an unknown face, I knew it must be someone from the outside."

He looked young, almost as young as I was (I was around 23 that year). But the most surprising thing was...he looked calm and composed. Most of the soldiers that I saw almost always looked tense. I can't blame them, they live in constant danger, and have to deal with attacks almost everyday. How this man was so calm on the other hand, was a complete mystery.

"If you don't mind me asking...what were you doing out there? And the way you moved, it was different from the others..."

"Aah, don't mind me. I just like to revisit scenes of battles. It reminds me of who I am, and where I come from."

"What do you mean by that?"

Right then, a senior office came into the bunk, and called out to him. He had to go to battle soon, and the troop was heading out. The Axis troops were approaching.

"I'll talk to you later, Mr Reporter", he said with a smile.

"Aren't you afraid of dying out there?"

"It's not my time yet."

I was puzzled by his statement, but I couldn't do anything as he had to go fight. Later that night, I heard that his troop had returned, and there were no casualties. I sighed a breath of relief, and decided that I would find out more about him tomorrow. The next day, as I was approaching him, one of his squad mates stopped me.

He warned me that I should stay away from that man, that the man is some sort of 'freak'. I shrugged off those words, and entered his bunk. His face lighted up as he saw me.

"Mr Reporter! Glad to see you again!"

"Please, just call me Dave. Now, if you don't mind, shall we continue our conversation from yesterday? What was that about who you are and where you come from?"

"Oh, yes, yes! I was found by the army. I have no idea who I am, or where I came from."

I was stunned by what he said. But soon enough I retained my cool, and continued the conversation. It seems that he was the victim of a bombing raid, and was found by the Allied army while wandering around, injured. He has no idea about his name, or where he comes from. The only thing that he knows is war and the battlefield.

His walk around the warzone was his way of paying respects to the army, and to remember the day the army found him.

"So how does the other people communicate with you? They HAVE to call you something."

"Oh, they just gave me a random name, X. I do like it though. It sounds like a code name," he said with a childish grin.

Now, my dear diary, this is where things take a turn for the unusual. Right at that moment, I heard a crowd outside his bunk. As I turned around, I saw a gathering of soldiers, all right outside the entrance. X was not shocked in the least.

"Oh, is it that time again? Please, do come in, one by one. Mr Dave, you can stay here if you like."

Just then, the first soldier came in. X touched his forehead, and then told him that "he'll be fine." For the next soldier, he told him to "remember to carry your flask". I wanted to know what was happening, but I knew that nothing would come from staying in that bunk. I walked out, and asked one of the soldiers in line about the whole commotion.

"You didn't know? X is psychic!"

"Nonsense! What do you mean, psychic?

"It's true! X can predict and tell you if you'll be in danger of death. If he detects something, he will tell them to take extra care towards something, usually the thing that can cause his death."

Seeing my sceptical face, the other soldiers defended his 'ability'.

"X saved my life once! He told me to keep my dogtags in my breast pocket, and they saved me from a stray bullet!"

"Yeah, he told me to avoid bringing any grenades, and later that day, a ditch where I was passing caught fire, no thanks to the gunpowder in the air. If I had grenades at my waist, I would've exploded right there and then!"

I couldn't believe their words. It must've been just some superstition, or coincidence, right? I decided to approach his commanding officer about this, he must know something.

His commanding officer was a stern man, and was also dismissive of X's 'psychic abilities'. He told me,

"To be honest, I don't know if it's true or not. I personally don't believe in any of those things, but the soldiers swear by X's abilities to predict these stuff."

"You're not going to stop this?"

"Stop it? For what? What X is doing right now is helping to boost the morales of our troops. And in this hell of a war, we need all the morale we can get."

I understood his point. This war was a long one, and more and more troops are feeling tensed and depressed by the day. Whether or not X was psychic wasn't really a concern to him, as long as he can keep the morale of the troops up.

I continued in my day-to-day activities, covering the war efforts, while still chatting with X. He seemed really glad to see me everytime. I guess it's not easy to be known as a 'death psychic'. You don't really get much friends. One day, X came up to me.

"Dave, I have had a terrible premonition!"

"What? What is it, X?"

"Dave, you must not go out into the field tomorrow."

"Why not? Will I die?"

"Yes, and it is a most horrific death, Dave. I do not wish for you to get that kind of fate. Please promise me, stay away!"

As I mulled over his words, the unmistakeable swishing sound of helicopter blades broke my concentration. They approached me, and I could feel a certain sense of nervousness as they did so.

"Mr Dave, war journalist I presume?"

"Y-yes, that's me. What could be the matter?"

"We're here to get you out of here. Your assignment here has been cancelled. This area's about to become a hot zone, not fit for a journalist to be around."

As it didn't sound like I had much of a choice, I got into their helicopter and left with them. As we were taking off, I saw X running towards us, and waving at us from below. Now that I think back, for some reason, it felt as if I was his only friend there, and that he was lonely. But...nothing could be done anymore.

The next day, I was shocked beyond belief. The outpost I was in had been the target of an Axis air strike. X was right. Had I stayed there, I would've been blowed up to pieces. I felt a sense of dread. Would I have died if the helicopter had not came for me?

I shook off those assumptions. Nothing could be done anymore. The only thing that I can do is to hope that they survived, and did well in their lives. After that, I did not hear anything about X anymore. Was he alive? Was he dead? What was his real name, and where was he from? Was his ability real?

I couldn't find out anything from official records about the war. It's already pretty hard to explain about an unknown person being drafted, what more a person with no name.

And that marks the end of my account, diary. Until today, I still ponder about X sometimes. Perhaps I might meet up with him on the other side, and we would share our stories.

The Name Stealer

At the lobby, the man walked quickly. Dressed smartly in a navy blue suit, leather shoes, and holding a metal briefcase, he walked with an air of importance and pride around him. Even among all of the professional-looking people in the lobby, he really stood out among all of them.

In a rush as he walked, he glanced down at his watch when he bumped into something.

"Oh, sorry about that," he muttered. After regaining his composure, he looked up towards the person he just bumped into.

A teenager, around 18 years of age, stood there, his hands holding a clipboard with some papers on top. Sensing this chance, the teen spoke up.

"No worries, sir. Would you like to take part in this survey though? It shouldn't take 5 minutes of your time."

Usually, the man wouldn't bother with these things. However, he felt a bit guilty over the bump, so he decided to oblige the teen. Gesturing towards the teen to give him the clipboard, the man took out his pen from the breast pocket of his suit.

As he filled up the survey, the teen took a peek at the form.

"Mr...Alistair, is it? Alistair Morgan?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"That's..quite the unique name, Mr Alistair."

Alistair paused, and looked up at the teen. With a grin, he said,

"Yeah, I'm pretty proud of it actually. The Morgan family has always had unique names, and we always raise up distinguished individuals."

"So...you wouldn't mind if I...take it, do you?"

Alistair felt a chill down his spine. Suddenly, the teen's eyes were cold. Emotionless. As if he was not human. He looked around, but he could not see anyone in the lobby, that was full of people just a second ago. He tried to run, but his legs froze.

From the teenager's body, something similar to tentacles appeared. But Alistair could not take a good look at it, he could only grasp the shape of them. The tentacles appeared to be as dark as night itself.

They reached out to Alistair, surrounding him. They changed shapes, and started expanding, eventually forming a huge sphere with Alistair in its centre. With a snap of the finger from the teenager, the sphere shrunk, compressing itself until it reached the shape of a small cube.

He flicked his finger, and the tentacles brought the cube to the teenager. Slowly, his body absorbed the cube, and a sphere formed around him as well. It shrunk slowly, forming the shape of a man.

The darkness seeped away from the teenager, who now had a new appearance. He took a look around. He was still in the lobby, with people moving in and out in a hurry. No one had even noticed that the teenager was gone.

"Mr Alistair! There you are!"

He turned around, and saw a woman rushing towards him.

"You're going to be late for the meeting! Please get into the car."

As he was being led towards the Mercedes-Benz parked outside, he turned around to look at the lady, and asked.

"What's your name again?"

Nope, not dead yet

Just wanna announce, I ain't dead just yet. Just lazy. Very very lazy. Urghhhh

Requiem

At the streets, there was chaos. Nothing but chaos. People were going wild, attacking each other. They had a deranged look in their eyes, as if they were nothing more than wild animals. Fires rage across the streets, shops and buildings set ablaze by the people. The riot police could not do much against these people, as there were too many of them.

Far off on the roof of a building, stood a man, sharply dressed in a suit. He was not participating in the chaos. But he had these strange hand movements. Almost as if he was guiding something, he moved his arms swiftly in the air, with rapid yet smooth movements. A certain distance behind him, an old man lied unconscious, tied to the chimney of the building. Wearing an oversized lab coat, the old man slowly regained his consciousness. The first thing he noticed was the smell of smoke in the air. When his vision became clear, he saw the glow of the fire below, and smoke that was rising up from all around. Then his vision focused on the man in the suit.

"You! Who are you?! What's happening here?"

The other man did not stop his hand movements, but merely turned his head around to address the old man.

"Aah, doctor! You're finally awake! So glad you could join us!"

"You...you're...Joseph? What's going on here? What's happening?"

"Hush now. I'm conducting."

"Conducting? Conducting...what? Why are there screams in the air? Why is there so much smoke?"

"It's a requiem, doctor. A requiem that I'm conducting for these poor souls."

The doctor could not bear it anymore. Struggling against the rope, he inched towards the side of the building to see what was going on. When he saw how people was acting, he was utterly shocked.

"What's going on here?! Why are these people fighting against each other?! And what do you mean you're conducting? You....you did this?"

As the doctor spoke, the man did some final gestures with his hands, and as he finished, there was an explosion in the horizon, as if he planned everything right down to the exact detail. He turned around, and walked slowly towards the professor.

"Doctor...I told you. I'm conducting a requiem."

"What...what do you mean?"

"These people...they have lost so much. They were so stressed. They were overwhelmed, by work, by their relationships, by their finances. Then they came to you. After all, you're renowned for your studies on stress, aren't you?" Joseph smiled innocently when he said there. The doctor, however, felt a shiver down his spine from that smile. There was a certain...malice to it.

"But you couldn't help them. You couldn't solve their stress. Of course, how could you? Their lives were messed up beyond measure."

Joseph walked towards the edge of the building, looking down at the chaos below.

"Affairs! Bribery! Corruption! Cronyism! There was no way you could have solved these problems. But they didn't care, did they? All they wanted was a way to be rid of all that nasty stress pent up in their lives. So I gave it to them, doctor. What you couldn't give them, I could!"

He gestured animatedly as he spoke. The doctor looked a Joseph, first with eyes of hatred, but then it turned into pity. He remembered Joseph. He was one of the doctor's first patients in regards to stress. But he could never solve it. Why it happened, what caused it. He could never figure it out. And now it was too late for him. Joseph turned back towards the doctor.

"Aw, come now doctor. I can see it in your eyes, you know. There's no need to pity me. I know perfectly well what I'm doing. I am a sufferer of chronic stress myself. I never knew what I was doing in my life. All my pessimism, worry, negativity about life, caused me much more pain than anyone could ever imagine. But now I'm free. I know what I have to do in life. I must guide these poor lost souls so that they don't end up like I did.

I gave them a way out, you know. A way to get rid of those stress. I told them, 'let it out! There's no need for you to hold back on this world, this world that has mistreated you for so long. This world that has caused you so much stress'. And look at what is happening now."

Joseph had a certain look of glee in his face as he watched the chaos down below.

"That's why I played the requiem, doctor. It was a farewell to their stressed up lives. Now, they will live free of stress, forever!"