It was midnight. The second hand had just ticked by the twelve on the clock and a new year had begun. It was January of nineteen sixty-one. Robert was at home alone. He thought nothing of the date or what millions of other people were doing at that moment. He sat in solitude, his body sunken into the single seat of a material, thick-cushioned lounge. It was old, heavy and solid, the type crafted to wrap around the occupant’s body. The room was dark except for the slight illumination of a dying candle.

 

A large window with its heavy curtains pulled back and tied to the frame, stood in Robert’s direct line of sight. He stared through the dusty pane of glass, a dark night being destroyed by a late-rising moon. A distant wall of a line of trees stood inanimate in silhouette. Before them the boundary fence and between the two, the parallel road that led to the property.

 

The reason New Years Eve and the New Year were only indirectly in Robert’s thoughts was because innately, he was aware of his rapidly growing loneliness. It was beginning to overtake him. All he could think about was James, the man he loved to the depths of his heart, the man he had consciously chosen to leave. Robert could not get the memory of the handsome face or the beautiful, naked, male body out of his mind. He could not push aside the memory of the tight and firm arse that took him deep with love. He could not stop thinking about the hardness and silkiness of the cock and the come in his mouth. Mainly, though, he could not stand the ache in his heart or the guilt from the choice he had made. He repeatedly confirmed he had done what was best, by crushing a love that undoubtedly would have lasted a lifetime. The world was not ready and too unwilling to accept what had been growing between them.

 

Unexpectedly, he saw something move across the lawn that surrounded the house to the fenced parameter. Momentarily he grinned condescendingly at his chosen use of the word “lawn,” to describe any part of his surrounding property.

 

This was country Australia in high summer, well west of the Great Dividing Range. A patchwork quilt of red dirt, dying grass and thick leaved, insidious weeds, were the closest thing to a lawn there could be.

 

Whatever had broken the stillness outside had stopped, becoming unnervingly still; it’s four-legged, dark shape, a statue of intrigue. Robert focused his eyes until he realised the animal was about the shape and size of a Dingo. The rising moon’s light suddenly caught its eyes. Two, silver-blue discs glowed, as they seemed inexplicably to be looking directly at him. He felt a sense of unnatural disturbance.

 

Robert felt a chill run up his spine making him shiver but then the dark shape rose onto its hind legs before the body morphed into human form. The silver-blue eyes turned red while most definitely, drilled sharply through the window, glaring menacingly at him.

 

Motionless, as Robert gasped and his hands gripped tight to the thick armrests, he wondered how the beast could have detected him in his stillness, in a barely lit room and at such a distance through the window. The word “Werewolf” ran through his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them, only to watch horrified, as the shape became liquid and drained into the earth.

 

Gone but most definitely not forgotten, Robert thrust himself against his will and out of the chair. He moved as swiftly as he could to the window, his legs shaking, as disbelief and fear consumed him. He rested his hands on the windowsill for balance, his eyes darting as his gaze attempted to locate a dingo, a human or god forbid, a werewolf.

 

Robert was a pragmatic man. He looked for answers in the logical, in the scientific and the rational. His eyes and his mind were asking him to believe in something he would never have given the time of day. It was impossible but there it had been, unless he was losing his mind. It was an unpalatable consideration and yet, in a way, it seemed insanity was a preferable thought.

 

Nothing! The grounds were still, empty and silent. All that existed in this lonely pinpoint on a map was a house, some trees, a fence and also his car just outside the window. He shivered again.

 

Robert suddenly noticed the reflection in the pane of glass, which separated the outside world and him. Due to the small flame of the candle, the window revealed the room behind him.

 

A double bed stretched out from the wall toward the window. According to the reflection, the door to the room was to the right of the bed. To the left of the bed, the entire wall was covered by an old, nineteen forties wardrobe. The wall to the right would have been completely empty had he not dragged the antique, single lounge into the room that afternoon. A small table with a half finished and now cold cup of tea, sat in the nook between his bed and the opened door.

 

Robert focused on his own reflection for a moment and the rest of the room behind him disappeared. He was not looking at his short, blond hair or his handsome face. He was looking at the fear in his eyes. He was afraid and he knew he was afraid, even if there was nothing tangible or reasonable to be afraid of.

 

What seemed an irrational thought, told Robert to get his keys and his wallet, to leave his new home and then to get into his car and head to the closest town or location. He felt an urge to find some form of human life, to go and to stay somewhere other than where he had chosen to be.

 

For a moment, once again, he considered his thoughts and his fears irrational. Regardless, his eyes moved to his car and it seemed so familiar and safe. This house, his new home, bought for the solitude he thought would best heal his broken heart, suddenly did not seem so healing at all. In fact, it felt so far from safety and from the help that others it seemed took for granted. He was twenty miles from his closest neighbour and thirty from the nearest store or services.

 

The whole point of this location had been to escape human contact, to remove temptation and to exist fundamentally within a life of imagined simplicity. Now, though, he wished it was daylight and that he was standing in a crowd in the centre of Sydney.

 

The flame flickered on the candle, which sat on the ledge of the solid, wooden bed head. His eyes drifted to it in the reflection and for a moment he noticed every shadow of everything in the room, shift and move in a slow dance across every surface. It was such a simple, natural thing but in that particular moment, it took on a ghostly yet tangible perspective.

 

Robert stared as the shapes, both geometric and abstract, adjusted left to right and back, as the flame began to find its still. He suddenly wondered why the flame had shifted at all. There were no opened doors or windows and the house was well built and without drafts. Before he could conclude an answer, he forgot what he was thinking when he saw an enormous cloud devour the moon and all of its light. Everything outside became even darker.

 

The shadows in his room halted, joined like frozen conjoined twins to their respective inanimate objects. Robert’s gaze moved over the reflection of the room and its stillness. As his gaze moved to the frame of the doorway, he inhaled and held his breath at the sight of movement.

 

The blood in Robert’s body seemed to drain away, the cold chill beneath his skin returning and feeling like tiny bugs scampering over every cell of his flesh. His arms folded over his chest and his hands and fingers gripped his arms. He held himself tight when he realised what he was about to do. He had to turn around and face the impossible, a something that was nothing, which was sliding into the room at eye level, flat and black like a shadow on his wall.

 

He closed his eyes only for a second, as he inhaled and began to twist at the hips. His mind was screaming, “Don’t,” as his brain told his legs to do what he wanted.

 

His right leg moved back, turning as his foot moved behind the other. It planted on the floor and took his weight so his left foot could turn as well. As his entire body swivelled almost one hundred eighty degrees, his eyes were already staring at the edge of the doorframe before he stopped, watching as a shapeless shadow continued to ooze into the room. It moved like a black liquid being spilled but falling sideways instead of down. When it reached the corner of the room, it continued like a spill, turning and moving, onto the continuing wall, now to his left.

 

Without a rational order, he stepped back until he felt the cool glass of a night window through the light cotton of a summer shirt. He stared in horror and yet in awe, as the last of the spill became an unmoving stain on the creamy, bone colour of the wall.

 

Robert wanted to speak, to cry out actually, however, he knew there was no one anywhere in the world that would hear his cries where he now lived.

 

It was impossible to take his eyes off this thing. It was doing nothing, just motionless and was almost perfectly round, about three feet in diameter. He stood there barely thinking, not even wondering what to do. Unexpectedly, an odd thought crossed his mind and he wished the thing would do something first, something to take away his inability to act.

 

The shadow did nothing but remain a huge and ugly stain on a wall. In spite of being round, it reminded him of a splatter. Considering this, Robert considered a disturbing thought, that its size and shape might be what it would look like, if someone blew a hole through another person’s body at close range with a sawn-off shotgun. He shivered again.

 

Then came the thought he had not expected. It was the last thing he would have considered he would think. He thought, “If only I had not left James.”

 

Insanely, the thought kept hold of him in spite of what was happening. With a rationalising construction he thought, “It was safer to leave and to live alone. If our love for each other had been discovered, two men who shared the naked intimacies of men and women, I or both of us would have ended up in prison or bashed or perhaps even dead. Breaking his heart as well as my own was the safest thing to do.”

 

His rationale completed, his eyes focused once more on the thing. With the shadow’s lack of movement and also the passage of time, the threat of this thing soon became less. It was vain hope and nothing more but Robert wondered if he was imagining things. He made the most irrational decision immediately, from a feeling of a need to act.

 

Robert took a single step toward the thing and stopped. He eyed it but it remained without movement. Slowly, he took another step closer but still it was just an enormous splash of dark colour on the wall. When he took his third step he stopped again. Robert was less than two steps from the wall when he yelled with a rasped and frightened voice, “Do something!”

 

Dismayed, he stared as nothing happened. For a moment he paused until his frustration ordered action. He thought of what he had seen outside and he conceptually considered quickly, exactly what consequences his taking action could bring. He dismissed the logic of caution and took the fourth step, his right arm lifting, his hand outstretched and his fingers coming closer to the wall.

 

With less than five inches from contact, the dark mass began to react. It was not visible at first because of the dimly lit room and its dark colour. However, soon, as if it were spilling horizontally away from the wall at its centre, like a drop of the shadow was being poured, it began to stretch, becoming finger-like, its shadow-like fingertip approaching Robert’s fingertip.

 

Robert’s eyes adjusted when he saw what was happening. There was no feeling of greeting and no thought of curious alien contact. The only feeling Robert experienced was a sense of maliciousness. He pulled his hand back fearfully and took a single step backwards as well. The shadow returned to its former flat position against the wall.

 

There was no doubting in Robert’s mind that he needed to leave or perhaps escape. He turned and looked toward the open doorway. Three steps and he would be out of the room, his keys and wallet on the entry table by the front door. He could be in his car in less than thirty seconds.

 

In what seemed to be the most logical thought of all, Robert decided he would go back to James and beg him to forgive him and take him back. How one thing could relate to the other made no sense but still he felt certain.

 

Turning his gaze from the doorway Robert looked back at the thing but as he leaned toward the door to begin his momentum, it moved fast and closer to the door.

 

Robert stopped even though he had not actually moved and he corrected his stance. He looked at the thing and could not believe its speed or even that it could have reasoned what he was about to do. He thought it had to be coincidence. He decided instantly that he would run because it was after all, only a shadow.

 

The moment his decision was made but before he acted, the shapeless dark mass began to change, as it once again moved away from the wall. Like a long flow of thick, black liquid, it extended outwards from the wall and then poured until one end touched the floor while the other remained joined to the wall. Its position was between Robert and the door.

 

Robert stared in disbelief, forgetting what he had decided to do, as he gazed transfixed at this thing. He watched the mass stretch three-dimensionally. What joined the wall became a hand and fingers and what joined the floor became a foot and leg. Then, in between, a body formed before extending a head and neck and additional limbs.

 

Robert took another step back. He felt fear in his chest like nothing he had ever felt before, other than perhaps his overwhelming need, which he had discovered in his devouring love and desire for James.

 

Gradually, silently and frighteningly easily, the shadow or whatever it was, peeled its connection away from the wall and became a freestanding being. Eye sockets formed, a nose and then a mouth cavity formed and parted slightly. It was all still black but then red eyes appeared again.

 

Robert rasped, “Sweet Jesus, what the fuck?”

 

The mouth smiled momentarily as if in response to Roberts horrified words. Robert did not expect it to speak; he still imagined it as a shadow with shape but without organs or god forbid a voice box and tongue.

 

“Foolish little man. You were given a gift that many are not given. You accepted that gift but then you turned away in fear. You ran like a Koala without a tree from a Dingo, instead of swimming like a Black Swan into the breast of another Black Swan. Sometimes, a second chance is not given and I, have decided, I will deny you that chance as punishment.”

 

Robert stared in shock, not because the thing had spoken but because of what the thing had said. He knew it was referring to James, to true love and to running away from the best thing that had ever happened in his life, all because of fear.

 

Robert’s eyes shifted and he glanced at the opened doorway. He had no other escape unless he dived through the glass of the window. He imagined his body being torn to shreds and bleeding to death on the ground beside his car.

 

“Choices,” the shadow said, “you have them but the question is whether they will bring the outcome you hope for. You could attempt to get by me but I promise I won’t let you. You could crash through the glass and chance your imagined occurrence and I promise I’ll let you, simply so I can see that pained outcome. The thing is, Robert, bleeding or not, I will still come for you. Even if you had your keys and you got to your car and began to drive away, I won’t let you make it to the road. Your fate is sealed and I have determined its outcome for before the sun rises.

 

In that moment, the candle flickered and Robert looked toward it and saw that the flame was soon to die.

 

“A shadow can’t exist without light,” Robert said assertively, as he turned back and looked at the thing almost courageously.

 

The shadow’s mouth smiled again before it said, “Such a shame you didn’t choose to be courageous when you needed to with James. It would have saved you from me.

 

Robert asked, “Why is my life your concern?”

 

“It’s not, well not specifically. I’m just making it my concern,” the shadow said with a vitriolic tone.

 

“Why?”

 

“I am the spectre of the wrath of the masculine disembodied. I am the devourer of the sin of men. I feast on men’s greatest sin, the fear to be who they are within, the fear of the anima, the fear to be softened, the fear to love and be truly loved. Always replaced with superficial lust and excuses, this fear is insidious and penetrates even into the flesh. It is delicious to consume and its scent cannot escape me.

 

“I have existed since the time of men. Perhaps I’m a teacher of the obvious but I take pleasure in your fears of the emotional heart. It is the fear that is so deeply seeded inside of men’s hearts that it brings pain and coldness to the body and mind. I feast on those of you who succumb to that fear and let me tell you, there are so many of you. You all keep me strong because you will, not, learn.

 

“You disgust me, all of you who embrace the fear,” the shadow said and its tone became acidic. “You turn your backs on what drives you most. You replace it with insatiable hunger for skin and then whine when you find yourselves still empty at your cores. Some of you, like you, Robert, receive a gift beyond measure; you accept it, taste its wonder and then still run like frightened children from imagined monsters under the bed. Well, let me tell you, Robert, your monsters are imagined but I am not. I am the real thing. I am the punisher of the insipid, those who call themselves men when they have no right to do so. Robert, now it is your turn to feed me.

 

“I am to be the keeper of your eternity, Robert. Your eternity will hold pain greater than the pain you caused to those who were not afraid. I will devour your mind and heart and body while I imprison your soul within my essence. All of you will exist within your souls, forever feeling your fears, knowing the pain you created in others and always aware of the choice you should have made.

 

“Once I take you, there will be nothing to enjoy. You’ll never get used to it and you’ll never find any peace. I am the judge and the executioner of those who became the advocates of fear and pain and hurt and I shall remain the warden until the end of time.”

 

Robert asked, even though he knew the answer, “But why? Tell me why? Why me?

 

“Because Robert, when a homosexual man submits to fear, when he turns his back on who he is and what he is, I am what he faces in the end. There is only one chance of avoiding me, which such men as you are granted. That chance is found in life, in a true expression of your natures. Not in the natures men decide are theirs but rather, in the natures that are truly theirs.

 

“A homosexual man who is afraid of his heart, of the consequences he thinks his heart will bring or of what he thinks he will miss out on if he embraces his heart, is actually choosing dark over light, emptiness over fullness and to wilt rather than to grow. I am the consequence of those choices. For you, Robert, you had your chance but you failed to embrace the chance.”

 

Robert stared at this thing, this demon, a black void in human shape and he could not deny he fit into the words the shadow had spoken. He knew the pain he had caused James for no other reason than he had been afraid. He wanted to deny it, he wanted to tell the shadow it had made a mistake but he knew it had not.

 

The rising fear came again but this time it was a terror of his coming death and the following torture. He imagined only his consciousness forever imprisoned in blackness, feeling and thinking relentlessly about pain and regret and emptiness.

 

The flame of the candle flickered again and Robert looked toward it with both horror and hope in his eyes. The flame shortened to almost nothing and then in vain hope, Robert smiled.

 

“Your time has come, not mine,” Robert said.

 

The shadow turned its head and looked at the fading flame and then glanced around at the dwindling light of the room. It turned back to Robert and smiled before saying, “Perhaps, Robert, if I were indeed a shadow.”

 

Lifting its black arms and stretching them out to its sides, the shadow grew in size. It grew another few inches in height until it looked down at Robert. Its body grew larger in volume until Robert could no longer see the door behind it. Its mouth opened wide and amidst the deathly silence, it screamed an angry, growling scream that was near deafening. The windowpane vibrated and sounded like it was going to shatter. The bed and also the antique lounge, both began to shudder as the legs began to bounce and jump like there was an earthquake. The teacup rattled in its saucer as well while the enormous, old wardrobe began to rock in response to the resonating scream. Then the shadow began to move toward Robert, its arms closing with the intent of wrapping around him.

 

Robert screamed as well but his was a scream of terror. The intangible darkness began to wrap around him, not just the arms but the body as well. The human shape was lost as it became more like a veil thrown over something until shape could not be determined. Robert turned in an attempt to crash through the window but he was too late and he was captured, surrounded and wrapped in darkness.

 

Strangely, Robert could feel nothing of substance and yet still the shadow held him in place like a black force field. Robert flailed his arms and punched with his fists, hitting and achieving nothing. Still it moved and turned and he felt as if a billion needles were stabbing into every pore of his skin.

 

For a moment, Robert’s eyes fell upon the candle flame, a veiled light through this black shadow. The candle was seconds from extinguishing, which would fill the room with darkness. He thought if he could hold on just a second longer.

 

The flame died and the room became pitch-black. A blood-curdling scream interrupted the void of darkness, a man’s scream of violent, unwanted and struggling penetration, a scream of rape, a scream of murder, a scream of something beyond comprehension.

 

Suddenly, the screaming stopped and the pitch-black room also became quiet. Everything was silent and everything was still and then a moment later, a cricket outside the window began an on-again off-again song.

 

Time and the world appeared to have stopped but minutes later, the large cloud moved away and the moon appeared again. As the natural silver-blue light melted away the darkness, it showed nothing but an empty room through the window. A few moments later, the wall of trees outside the property began to sway as if a gust of wind had passed through the individual canopies. Instantly the wind gave birth to sound but the sound could only be described as a choir of crying, moaning, screaming and groaning men. It was a tortured sound and in this place, it seemed as if it would drift on in the air forever.

 

Eventually the sun was to rise, adding to the confirmation of an empty room and an empty house. The room remained a portrait of stillness. Night fell and another day came and then ended. There was sunrise and then sunset before another sunrise again. The days and nights drifted by, merging into an endless continuation of time, months of a repetitive cycle.

 

Dust gathered, nothing moved and finally when the mailbox began to spill over, a curious postman brought alert. Almost a year later, two police officers came to the property. A dirty car sat outside the front of the house and the property was in disrepair.

 

Breaking into the house, they discovered no one. A wallet and keys sat beside the front door, clothes hung in the wardrobe and lay folded in a chest of drawers. The necessities of life filled the other rooms of the house and an empty cup sat by the bed with a stain deep within, showing the place from where the evaporation had begun. In the kitchen was rotting food and despite the neat appearance of the entire house, dust and spider webs had begun to collect.

 

One day a truck arrived and the house was emptied. A couple of days later a husband and wife arrived and cleaned the house from top to bottom. By the end of that week a “For Sale” sign was placed at the gate but no interest ever came. Too few people had ever even seen the house and so even rumours did not take hold. Time and warmth had left this property along with a man who no one ever saw or heard of again. It was a mystery, which would remain forever unsolved, added to a collection of similar mysterious disappearances of men, which would continue to take place all over the world.