As the town church’s bell tolled midnight a great gust of wind blew the leaves from where they had fallen, and in their recently vacated place a man appeared—a man who was not quite a man at all. He was neither tall nor short, fat nor thin, dark nor fair. The edges of him were fuzzy and indistinct; one would have a hard time telling exactly where the cloudy night around him stopped and his body began. If anything, he seemed to be an extension of his own shadow. He simply was, and so he went on his way.
The shadowman slunk down the lane that cut through the sleeping town of Kinley, sticking close to the unlit side of the road so that he would not be seen. Were he to pass under a lamp, one would have noticed that his hazy body was actually made of a dense, black vapor that moved with the roiling fluidity of smoke trapped under a glass, and known that something was afoot. But the shadowman was under orders to not be spotted in this town, and he carefully kept to the darkness where he belonged.
He took in every detail of Kinley that he could: the names of the streets and the shops and houses neatly lining them, and especially the softly disjointed dreams of the Kinley residents lying in their beds, unaware of the visitor that had come peering into their windows. Really, that was what brought him here more than anything—the dreams. The pure, unconscious, rambling thoughts of these humans that skittered about their heads at night, knocking gently into one another and dissolving into the ether. It was these dreams that this shadowman and all of the shadowmen like him thrived off of, and it was these dreams that his creator had sent him to survey. He had to restrain himself from inhaling, from soaking up the dreams. It was a bit like being set with a full plate of a favorite dinner but not being allowed even a crumb. It was exceptionally difficult when he came to the window of one little girl whose dream was a vivid splash of color, rife with fantastic creatures and impossible lands—all stemming from an exceptionally powerful imagination. The shadowman lingered at her window for perhaps a minute too long and he hissed when he tore himself away. To be hungry is better than to be shredded to wisps by his creator, surely.
As he made his way through the town he let the sounds of the thoughts brush over him like the breeze, tuning in when he felt something particularly strong and fading out when it was more or less of the same. He did this through the late hours of the night and into the early morning, and eventually he noticed himself beginning to dissipate. Tendrils of smoke billowed from his body, melting into the four o’clock air, and he grew smaller as he rolled gently down this final street of Kinley to the very last house at the bottom of the hill. He worried that by the time he made it there he would be nothing, but the shadowman persevered.
As he rested in front of the house—out of the glow of the porch light—he listened carefully for the dreams inside. He waited for several minutes, because sometimes it took a moment for him to catch the thread that would reel him in. But strangely enough, he heard nothing—neither waking nor sleeping thoughts. Only absolute silence. This confused the shadowman; he crept backward some way and could hear the thrum of the dreamers in the house next door, but moving forward was like moving through a veil that canceled out every bit of thoughtful sound there was. Frankly, he didn’t know what to make of this. He’d never heard nothing before, but there was nothing now. To the shadowman this was curious, and he wished sorely to investigate further. But the longer he lingered the less he would become, so eventually he turned away from the quiet house at the bottom of the hill, and with a great gust of wind his nearly absent body was blown away back to who he came from.
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125,020 Literary Works • 672,861 Reviews
This is my first review, so bear with me. I won't criticize that much I promise.
First off
"As he rested in front of the house—out of the glow of the porch light—he listened carefully for the dreams inside. He waited for several minutes, because sometimes it took a moment for him to catch the thread that would reel him in."
I love this line so much, I love the concept in general. I've read similar things to this in a sense, dealing with dreams. But this one has a different feel. It feels eerie, supernatural (not more fantasy) and maybe horror if you wish to pursue it.
The first two paragraphs are also really nice, but I think you go into to much detail in the beginning of the story. Explaining how he looks, how he isn't human and such. It would be nice to just go into that slowly in my opinion. Hint at it, give a little nibble here and there but not the whole cracker. Lead the readers on, make them question and want to know more. This was interesting yes, but I want to be reeled in.
That's all for now, but I look forward to reading more and learning more about this character in general. The concept is interesting and I like the way you seem to be going with it. Good luck.
Hi there! So before I dive in here, let me forewarn you I'm a nitpicker. Don't take any of my criticism to heart, it's just my opinion and you are free to do as you please with it.
I love fantasy/supernatural stories, so this is right up my alley. I like the third person perspective, as well as the spooky feel this story gives off.
Your first sentence, "As the town church’s bell tolled midnight a great gust of wind blew the leaves from where they had fallen on the ground, and in their recently vacated place a man appeared—a man who was not quite a man at all," draws me in, but there is a little thing I would tweak with the leaf part:
I'd leave out the "on the ground," I think that's too much. Also, I would change up the part "blew the leaves."
So something like: "As the town church's bell tolled midnight a great gust of wind rustled up the leaves from where they had fallen..." sounds a bit smoother for the first line.
Also I'd lose the word 'quite' here: "—a man who was not quite a man at all." Or change it to something like "-a man who was not even a man at all." The word 'quite' doesn't seem to fit.
I really enjoyed the rest of this first paragraph. Your descriptions are great!
"The shadowman slunk down the lane that cut through the sleeping town of Kinley, sticking close to the side of the road that had no streetlights so that he would not be seen."
what a great opening line to this paragraph, but I would change the second part up a little:
I think we can point out that there are no streetlights in a different way. Perhaps something like: "sticking close to the unlit road so that he would not be seen..." It just feels a little choppy with the "had no streetlights."
Again, you had more great descriptions to follow this up.
"Really, that was what he was here for more than anything—the dreams."
This sentence is a bit choppy. You want this to be more concise, especially with the premise behind this single sentence.
Perhaps something like "Really, that's what he had come for over anything- the dreams" or "Really, that's what had drawn him there more than anything- the dreams." It's just the "that was what he was here for..." part that seems a bit wordy.
"The pure, unconscious, rambling thoughts of these humans that skittered about their heads at night, knocking gently into one another and dissolving into the ether."
I really love this sentence!
Overall, I enjoyed this piece! It's unique. I haven't read anything that revolved around dreams in such a fashion in- well, ever. It's mysterious and alluring and I want more! My nitpicks above are more grammatical and syntax-related than anything. Your overall idea for this story is terrific! I really liked your descriptions as well- good job!
I hope this review didn't come off too obnoxious! You're a great writer!
Happy writing,
Kali Lennon
Hey,
Thanks for the review, not obnoxious at all. I like the edits you made a lot, actually. I appreciate the help!
I'm glad I could help!