Shadowed — A Short Story
Author's note: Shadowed draws on my own lived experience of depression and attempts to make sense of the day to day world. I am also inspired by the experiences of others and believe that empathy is key to helping all of us negotiate the pathways of reality and dreams. I wanted to fuse poetry elements into the narrative, as I think verse is sometimes the best way to describe intense thoughts and feelings.
STAGE I
It is a morning like any other. I shake the dream stuff out of my head and out of my eyes and move into the shower.
I don't eat breakfast as I don't have the time. The cool jets help wash away the unease, and within minutes, I am dressed and ready for the day.
I used to get the bus to work, but now I walk as I am trying to get more exercise. The 45-minute journey on foot gives me time to clear my head and prepare myself for social interaction.
My street is dirty and chaotic, and it does not end. It just goes on and on and on, feeding into other roads and other streets that all look the same. They wrap themselves around this island, squeezing it, constricting it - sucking the life out of it.
Outside a pub I used to go into when I was still drinking, I see a poster for a gig. The name and dead stare of the band look familiar to me. I wonder if I have seen them before. My name is on the bill as well. Another word coming after.
It has been scratched out. Someone has scratched out the word after it.
The Office is dark and constantly damp. It lies beneath the city. As I enter the cavernous space, I see my colleague, Dave. I don't know what Dave does, but he always seems to be eating an egg mayonnaise sandwich. I know that it is an egg mayonnaise sandwich because of the little specks of white on his tie. And the fact that he has told me that he only ever eats egg mayonnaise sandwiches.
“Hey, there!” he says. 'You were in early today! Been out for a sandwich?' I tell him that I've only just got in. He stares at me for a moment and then walks away, still eating. My job at The Office consists of updating records on the Company database. I get the new information by looking around The Office for Clues. The Clues manifest themselves in a few different ways.
The first kind is Seeing Things. This might be a fly buzzing around the place or a crack of light coming in from outside.
The second kind is Hearing Things. This might be the scrape of a chair or the cough of a co-worker.
The third kind is Smelling Things, which is the most common.
The fourth kind is the Uncanny.
Switching on my terminal, I see a message marked high priority in a highly displeasing font. It reads: ‘Report to the Production Manager at 11.30 am for an informal disciplinary hearing’. Wondering quite how a disciplinary hearing could be informal, I begin checking The Office for Clues.
However, my morning worksheet has already been filled in. Someone has done my work for me.
At 11.31 am, I wake for the second time. I am in the Production Manager's Office. An Office within The Office.
In the corner, a decrepit all-in-one photocopier and fax machine sings 'Dream a little dream' in binary code, accompanied by the whirring, buzzing fan sitting proudly on the Production Manager's desk.
I tap my foot in time with the music and wait politely for the Production Manager to speak. The Production Manager's name is Sam.
“Do you know why I have asked you to come in here today?” I shake my head.
Sam smiles the smile of one who has an infinitesimal amount of knowledge that he believes is coveted by all. He always wears a mask, so I only know that he is smiling by the tone of his voice.
Fixing me with a cold, blank look, he asks again. Beneath the mask, his eyes are stagnant water. “You have no idea at all?”
Again, I shake my head.
“Your morning's work is all wrong. At 8.43 am, you stated on the database that you saw a floorboard creak and heard a ray of sunlight. At 8.48 am, you stated that you smelled a cloud. At 8.51 am, you heard a sandwich, and at 8.51 am, you saw a song. How do you plead?”
I reply that I couldn't possibly have made those entries as I only got into the office at 9 o'clock.
Sam laughs the laugh of one who believes himself safe from the wild, unpredictable nature of the universe.
“The System records everyone's work accurately. From now on, you will be Shadowed.”
At lunchtime, I sit in the canteen alone. I am eating a small bowl of salad. I am watching my weight, so I don't eat much at the moment.
The canteen is full of my co-workers, perhaps a hundred of them. They all have similar-sounding names and similar-sounding job titles. I don't know what they do, and I try not to look at any of them.
I am about to finish when I feel a light but insistent tap on the shoulder. A brash, mocking voice rises from the gloom.
“You calmed down then...”
Looking up, I see Simon, another pale-faced cog in the wheel of life down here. I blink, uncomprehending.
“You were all over the place first thing. Knocking into things, shouting things out...”
He pauses, and for the briefest of moments, a slightly hurt look crosses over his unmemorable features.
“You called me a ...” He pauses again, caught off balance by someone shoving past him in a terrible, unrestrained hurry. As Simon remonstrates, the speeding person quickly looks back. As they do so, I catch their eye, or rather, I catch my own eye.
For I am looking at myself.
I find myself staring at a perfectly identical version of myself – a twin... a double.
STAGE II
The Doctor makes a finger pyramid with his hands and speaks slowly in soft, unwavering tones. “So, can you tell me what happened the other day?” I launch into my monologue, not fully knowing who or where I am.
“I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being followed. All day long, this disturbing sense stuck with me, and yet I could find no logical reason for my unease. It was as though someone was walking in my footsteps and shrank back whenever I turned around. I didn't hear anything either, and yet this vague sense of dread remained with me throughout the day.
At work, colleagues told me that I had been all around the building looking for someone who looked like me. They said I had looked worried and had made little sense.
When I got home, my neighbour was gardening next door and told me that they had seen me in the town from their car. They had waved, but ‘I’ had ignored them. I didn't understand them; I hadn't been in town that day.
"Doctor, can you help me? I don’t know who I am!”
STAGE III
The dead eyes seek a release from division
The divided self seeks an end with precision
An end to forgetfulness, lifelong dream
A crossing of a border, Samsara's wheel
The only 'I' they ever knew was once closed up but now born anew
Time to chase and catch it red-handed
The suffering stops the consciousness demanded
Over the threshold the sleeper awakes
Time to dwell on repeated mistakes
Mistakes of the past and future stand still
A faltering grasp of reality kills
The real 'I' that lies beneath
Uncover the dream, discover the thief
The knowledge of the non-theist Priest
Burnt in blue fires of the Ancient East
A flickering spark lingers on in the eyes
The ones that we love, the ones we despise
The ones that we hope will follow us to
The place we awake and begin anew
Where the mountains meet the ocean depths
Where the dream ends and the secrets are kept
And where dual sides collide and strike
The day and the night, the black and the white
The young and the old, the scared and the bold,
The truth and the lie, the heat and the cold
The divided self rejoined again
The Sleeper awakes and the dreaming ends.
STAGE IV
Progress report
Today was a fine day. Update below…
Completed all work assignments.
All clues discovered and attributed.
The production manager is content.
I am content.
The world is content.
All is fine. Except for one minor issue.
An individual was following me.
They looked almost exactly like me.
They walked exactly like me, but with a tired air of dejection, while I stride proudly into the known and the unknown.
They shouted, they screamed, they said I had stolen their life.
I turned to them and instructed them to report to the well-being department.
They refused and told me that I was a soulless automaton.
I had no response to this, so I left them rambling, and I went back to work.
Personal compliance level 5 out of 5.
STAGE V
So, I packed all my bags and left Home and Office
Went down the road and left that aspect
I found a release without any clues
Not like the tales predicted
Not like I had expected
Went moving ahead
Without looking backwards
I did not die
Neither did the double
We’re in different zones
And that is how it is staying
And that is how it is staying
And that is how
And that is how
How it ends
How it ends
For now
For now
This article has been sponsored by the Psychiatry Research Trust, who are dedicated to supporting young scientists in their groundbreaking research efforts within the field of mental health. If you wish to support their work, please consider donating.
