In many ways it felt familiar, comfortable. In other ways that he did not care to think too deeply about it made his heart shrink and thoughts panic. His mind tried desperately to define the shadow. The designation was vaguely wrong - there was something quite substantial about this shadow. Yet he never saw what or whom was behind him. Thus he named it 'the shadow' in his mind.
The shadow was neither negative nor positive.
It was simply there.
Like a shadow, in fact.
It was with him when he took the decision.
It was with him when he went to the cliff.
And it was still with him at this very moment. At the edge of the cliff. Waiting. Expecting. Regarding. Scavenger.
It was then the shadow started arguing with him. It hadn't uttered a word before then. Not a syllable, not a single sound - not even a breath had come out of its immaterial mouth.
However.
Now he could feel its breath in his neck.
It was a cold gust.
The shadow leaned forward.
You must do it.
He gasped.
"Why? What is it to you?"
It is important to me.
"I bet it is!"
You must understand.
"Are you taking my place?"
No. I'm giving you one.
"No, you aren't!"
He looked round him. The grey cliff he was standing on was the only coloured item there. His world was as ever white and black - like the way he knew it. With smooth, graphic lines and planes. He wanted to leave this sterile grey world. He had for a long time. There was pain. There was no pain.
The shadow must have read his mind. Perhaps it always read his mind.
This world gives you pain. You must leave it.
He closed his eyes and thought back to a time when he had actually enjoyed living. When he had enjoyed having emotions. When he had enjoyed not having them. When the time had not appeared so meaningless and devoid of importance. This life is devoid of meaning and importance.
The voice in his head, behind his head, round his head was mesmerising. His opened his eyes, searching his soul.
No, no fear.
What is the point of living if there is no fear?
"Your arguments are feeble!" he said aloud, triumphant.
You are feeble.
He tried to turn round, tried to see his tormentor. But the shadow turned with him.
"Who are you?" he asked with a trembling voice, "Death?"
No response.
"You must answer!" he demanded.
There was silence for a moment; then came the mercilessly steady voice.
If I am Death, then who are you?
"Life!"
Silence.
I am Life and you are Death.
"No!"
The cry was a whimper.
Was this emotion?
Then why did he still feel so empty.
It felt like the shadow was moving. Like the impatient scavenger it was.
Look at it this way: what have you got to lose?
"My life!" he said almost angrily.
You do not have a life.
"I do!" he began feeling like an refractory child, "I do!"
Prove it.
He gasped.
How does one prove a life?
"I exist!"
Prove it.
"I breathe!"
Prove it.
"I hear, feel the breath enter my mouth and I feel it leave!"
Prove it.
"ENOUGH!"
You cannot prove anything.
"I don't have to!" he said to the phantom - "I don't want to!"
Silence.
He stood there for a while. Relieved that the voice had stopped, yet anxious that he no longer had it for company.
He looked down the cliff and let his eyes wander to the bottom of the abyss. He could, in effect, see it. It was not bottomless. It was like nothing he had ever seen. There were no shapes, no edges, no form, no colours.
Only light.
Blinding light.
It held an overwhelming attraction to him.
Yes.
Something breathed down his neck.
"No!" he said in a sudden surge of naked fear. There! I felt!
No, you did not. It was instinct.
"Instinct is feeling!"
Is it?
Doubt flooded every pore of his skin. He wasn't certain, he never would be.
You can achieve certainty.
"How?"
One step.
He whimpered something unintelligible.
You must do it.
"Why?"
The circadian rhythm must be upheld.
"Why me?"
Why another?
Of course. Why another. He would use this last opportunity to act altruistically. His existence would have some merit, some content, some meaning. Naturally, then one could argue that with that his life would have meaning and he need not do this. Yet if he did not, his life would have no meaning, ... and he would have to see it through to add exactly that to his being.
A paradox.
Sophistry.
Came the calm, impersonal comment.
So it was, he decided.
So it was.
He didn't quite recall when he had taken the step. He didn't quite recall the endless fall and the tightness that began to squeeze him.
He did, however, sense an almost physical assault of light. The light from the bottom of the abyss, no doubt.
But then, he knew nothing.
The shadow was gone.
In fact, everything he had known was gone.
Sounds.
There were sounds.
Then the squeezing became intolerable. Cool air hit his head. Voices.
"Congratulations! You have a healthy baby boy!"
"....... Can I hold him?"
The End
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