Shadows

Shadows climb the wall. 12 years ago those shadows would have terrified me. They would be ghostly presences, wailing disembodied voices and icy hands crawling across my bed. But now they're only shadows - demons exorcised, voices silenced. The lifeless wonders of growing up.

I peel myself, fully clothed, from my bed. Twilight fills the room. I undress letting the clothes drop slowly to the floor and, naked, press myself to the wall. Sliding along, I slip between the wall and the shadow of a cedar tree. Gone. Exorcised.

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