Jimena Cachón, winner of the 2022 El Valle Short Story Contest
I honestly can't recall when I became a shadow. I may have decided it, what a dumb decision. I hope that in the back of my head live the memories of when I was me in bone and flesh, perhaps it's locked down forever in the labyrinth of my mind or that version of me never existed. Anyways for as long as I can recall I can't exist without light, I'm the third person of a girl I don't now but is in some way me, the viewer of someone else story. The shadow of a simple teenager. It's kind of depressing when you reflect on the lifestyle you've been put into, you didn't choose it then, can't choose it now and certainly won't be able to choose it the future. People say that you are the owner of your own destiny and I think those ignorant people just can't bare the thought of losing control. I wished they knew that us shadows, we have voices that have been silenced and eyes that have triple the capacity of their own. We can only observe how they do things they'll regret and lie to hide the embarrassing truth.
My name? I wish I knew. My provenance is a mystery. It's hard living the life of a shadow; we can't interact with anyone but our thoughts and occasionally other shadows. The torture of watching people feel, love, shout, laugh, cry, is a constant hammer banging in my non-existent face. But sometimes the plot twist and secrets of the most unexpected people, makes the realistic movie you're watching more entertaining. I live in the shadow of the perfect, barbie, east high cheerleader, Maia Jacks. When she struts the halls, with that characteristic confidence and superiority, I simply watch as everyone tilts their head and drops their jaw nearly to the ground. How their minds absurdly blown by her long black hair. Some compare her to Medusa and tell how her emerald dreamy eyes can drive a man crazy with a simple glyph. Freckles sprinkled in her face like bright stars in the canvas of the night sky. Apparently, she couldn't be bad at anything, division one athlete, genuine good person and high academic marks. Nevertheless, in the shadows it isn't all fun and rainbows, the good is torn and twisted until it becomes evil and there are always multiple complex sides to a simple story. She may be a victim of the darker cruel side, but no one was ever supposed to know, at least no one she knew existed of course.
It was the night of the 4th of July, Maia's last day in the lively beaches of California. She was on a family vacation and ended up making a few friends, none of which really cared about anything asides from parties. In all that madness of lights, fireworks, music and people, she found Leyla. From what I could recall, Maia found in this short, blonde, curly haired girl something different, something special. All her problems drained away when she talked to her, they appeared to be lifelong friends simply catching up. They went on talking for hours and sneaked out of the party. For the first time in a rather long time, Maia had a genuine conversation on a million different topics without felling anxious on what her new friend would opine. This even motivated me a little bit to put my social skills to use, I exhaustedly searched for her shadow and eventually we talked, what a rush I felt. First time interacting with someone of my own, someone whom I could complain about our situation with. Nothing really smelled fishy, just a great night, two girls that appeared to be lifelong friends or even sisters, laughing and singing. But then the night turned today, and Leyla mysteriously vanished, not leaving a trace and not to be seen. Maia didn't say it, but it was noticeable that the fact of not seeing Leyla emotionally attacked her and she would spend the days thinking that they would stumble upon each other like that one night.
By the time school started again she had forgotten about Leyla, she was focused on the first day impressions, certainly the most important. New kids, new teachers and a fresh start of her favorite movie. The first classes of her last year. The ringing of the bell singing freedom from the torture. The first bell rang, in less than a minute the corridors were filled with teenagers talking in a rather high volume, so the rest of the hall didn't overlap their conversation. Suddenly, in the fraction of a second, Maia though her brain had got the best of her, but I saw it two and couldn't believe it. Leyla, she was walking lost in the wave of the crowd, her curly blonde hair could be recognized easily from miles away, but then we lost track of Layla.
As the week went on, Maia would occasionally see Layla in the cafeteria, in the haul, outside her school. It got to a point were Maia's nerves got the best of her, she took the risk of telling her closest friend Emma. She assured Maia that no new girls had come in this course. Maia pretended she'd stopped having these apparent visions, in order to not worry Emma. But it was like an open wound and ignoring it just made it deeper and uglier. One day she was returning from cheerleading tryouts and heard the wind whistle with a thrillingly familiar voice, her voice. I watched as Maia went crazy, hyperventilating, worried she was really that crazy and overall wanting to be free from this nightmare. Immediately she ran to her safe place, seeking the comfort of silence to way down the pressure that had been laid on her shoulders. We were in a pitch-black beach, no light but the brilliant moon. Maia laid there and listened to the waves come and go, when she opened her eyes, she wasn't alone. I got scared but somehow Maia didn't, the only felling running through her body was relief. Relief that she wasn't crazy, that her friend was there, life and in person. Something had changed, in her eyes no more danced light and hope, they were dull and shallow, as if no energy was left in the poor Layla. No conversation was held, I searched for the girls shadow. This time it wasn't to be seen, I will not lie this creped me out, no one can exist without a shadow! Then the last piece of the puzzle was granted to me, I could finally connect all the dots. God how I wished the puzzle could've been left unsolved, and the moment a mystery. She never made it home. That one night on the 4th of July, guilt is the only feeling it should have for taking the innocent life of Layla Maxwell.
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