THE   SHADOW .
By  Richard   Flynn .

CHAPTER  1 (THE  PAST .)

          
"Come in !"
These were the first words I was to hear from the coaxing lips of the luscious, long-legged psychiatrist, Judy.
Judy was the most painfully gorgeous woman I had met in my entire life. She was the epitome of the perfect Hollywood model. With her lightly tanned legs stretching up to her lycra mini-skirt and her curvaceous size ten figure she was every mans dream.
There I was being asked to lie on this woman's couch; the dream turned reality. Yet this was strictly business, I was sick and I needed her help.
At that moment I was hoping that it was worth $500 to just talk to this woman whilst the burning in my loins continued. Slowly and surely Judy, the professional she was, peeled away at the grey matter of my mind, layer by layer.
   It is at this point which I should introduce myself;
I am Thomas Crowley and I am or should I say I was an artist for Imagination Comics, a well-known comic company in California. But I had been having some problems of late, so I was seeing Ms J.Holman, a psychiatrist. (And a good one too at $1000 an hour.)
    In the seven weeks preceding my visits to Ms Holman there had been a series of brutal slayings in the crime world. In forty-nine days a man known only as 'The Shadow' had been stalking Los Angeles killing crime. He wasn't just striking the mob leaders and the heads of organised crime, but he was also slaying petty criminals such as pickpockets.
In almost two months, 'The Shadow' had slain over one hundred criminals in the city, both large and small.
This of course stirred up anger, not only in the underworld, but also in the L.A. Police Department and the press were having a field day;
Who was the shadow ? A madman ? A Vietnam war veteran ? An ex-cop ?
There were no clues to his identity or his whereabouts. The police were baffled, this 'man' had no hair and left no fingerprints or skin tissue at the scenes of the crimes. You see normally the perpetrator leaves behind some means of identification, either by a stray hair, a fingerprint or even a murder weapon. But no, not 'The Shadow' he just appeared and disappeared as his namesake, leaving nothing but mutilated corpses in his wake. I say 'his' but for all the press and the police knew this vigilante could have been a woman.
I know this to be untrue for reasons that I will reveal later.
      So, there I was lying, relaxing comfortably on the leather recliner in Judy's office, yapping away my life history; about my job and my relationships with my family and with sexual partners, when I came out with it suddenly. Just as my Ma always said, "As subtle as a ten ton truck up the nose."
                           
                                         "I am The Shadow!"
At first her reaction was that of total shock, but then she laughed. She laughed and laughed until she fell off her chair. Then realising her insensitivity she slowly manoeuvred herself back onto her chair. She paused, then straightened her skirt before asking," So, you think you are The Shadow?"
  






"NO!" I boomed, sitting up now," No, no, I know I am The Shadow and I can prove it." I Proceeded to pick up my brief-case, place it on my lap and then open it. I reached inside it and pulled out, to her astonishment, the costume I wear as The Shadow, including a voice-box and blood stained weapons and torture devices.
I expected her to scream, but she just sat there and began to visibly shake. I enjoyed that, seeing the fear, the terror grip a person by the throat and physically move them. I slowly put the padded lycra leggings over my shorts. Then I put on my armoured lycra top. My shadow grew in size, as did the fear in Ms Holman's eyes. I continued to dress, putting on boots, face mask and voice-box and finally my steel-tipped gloves. I had wanted her to run long before I had even started to dress, but she chose her moment when I was in full darkness; as a Shadow. It was then that the fear and the realisation of what was coming next released her from her paralysis. She bolted for the door.
Before she had even got  within three feet of the door, the razor-wire had coiled around her left ankle and was slowly dragging her back along the floor to her couch, slowly shredding her tanned flesh from her leg. It took her until then to scream, and scream she did. The sound was exquisite, music cutting the night like the razor-wire around her ankle.
I stepped up the pace of the execution, picking her up in my claws to yet another howl of pain. I explained to her;
(my voice distorting to a cross between the guy who introduces the twilight zone and Freddy Krueger)
"You've been a very naughty girl haven't you Judy?"
She shook her head furiously and was struggling to escape my grip.
"I don't know what you're talking about, I've done nothing wrong!"
I lay her down on her couch and handcuffed her to the legs.
"Oh, but you have my dear, you have been committing the same offence for three months. I have been watching you and now I have passed judgement, your sentence is death".
I then showed her what resembled a large hairdryer, pointed it towards her pain-stricken face and pulled the trigger. Out shot the constricting coils encasing her body and the couch. She screamed and bucked until finally, twitching, her body sagged and fell limp. I then quickly unwound the razor-wire from her corpse, pulling away small slivers of skin at every rotation.
I then packed everything neatly into my brief-case and meticulously cleaned and vacuumed the room and the corridor, wiping my prints off everything I had touched.
Then I left for my jet-black Harley-Davidson at the rear of the building and roared off into the night feeling proud that yet another criminal had fallen under the cunning of The Shadow.


                      


. . . . . . . TO  BE  CONTINUED . . . . . . .