Part III: Shadow

15:15

It's almost dead silent in the cozy little study Johnathan finds himself back in. Were it not for the small reverberating hum from the portable heater atop his desk, one would almost go mad. He found it to be helpful in the winter months, as the heat throughout the rest of his home would not reach this secluded area of the basement. Sometimes he would let it turn off, as the cold would keep him awake and focused. The room was mostly free from distractions, just the way he intended it to be. A desk and chair, a small bookshelf, a chalkboard, and a small light above his desk illuminating the room was all that he needed. It was almost an escape from the hustle and bustle of city life right outside his bedroom window.

Despite it being a day off of course, Johnathan still wanted to get ahead on his ever increasing pile of work. He figured it was the perfect time to check his email, and use that as a distraction from the day thus far. But despite that, he couldn't get himself to stay focused. No matter what he does to try and shift focus, all that can be seen written is a single word: 'why?'

"Arg, what's wrong with me?" He says to himself. "It's like I can't just be left alone with my own thoughts. Instead of a simple email, I start to think about who I really am, and who Felix is." His hairs stand on end as he turns around, staring at the locked door behind him. There was no one in the room besides himself, yet he could still feel the presence of something, or someone staring back at him.

"Am I scared of him?" Johnathans breathing begins to quicken. "How can I be scared of someone I don't even remember last night? Is it because of the things he's said? Or is he just trying to get inside of my head?"

He slams his fist on the table. "I can't let him get to me. I refuse to let myself get inside my head about all of this. But…" Johnathan trails off for a moment, letting his arms dangle to his sides as he stares at the ceiling.

"...I don't know anymore. Is this who I'm really supposed to be? Did I make the right choices just to end up with a life that I tell myself I enjoy? Hell, I'm starting to think I'm my own worst enemy."

"So how exactly is the work life Johnny boy?"

Johnathan doesn't even bother leaving his seat as he continues to stare at the ceiling. By the sound of his voice, he could guess that Felix snuck in and was probably standing against the metal door. Johnathan stays silent.

"Do people actually enjoy your silly little stories? Or is that just what your publisher lets you believe?"

"...I'll have you know that my works sell very well actually."

"Oh does it now? HAH! How about you just be honest with yourself. At this point you're just living in your fathers shadow.

He's had enough. Jonathan spins around, visibly angry by his words. How dare he! He is nothing like his father.

"Haha, jealous? I know you are, and you just proved it."

Jonathan rises from his chair and rushes to Felix, grabbing him by collar. "Shut the fuck up Felix! I have nothing to be jealous of!"

Felix's tone shifts. "What happened to you man? How did things end up like this?"

"Stop talking like you know me already. You're starting to piss me off."

"I know that you were a happy kid once. You were also a very rebellious teenager at one point, not wanting to do what anyone told you in an effort to spread your wings and go do things on your own. I remember you left home at an early age, and even as a young adult, despite your upbringings, you were the life of the party back in college. Now look at you. No friends or girlfriend. You haven't spoken to your family in years, probably for the best after some of the things you did." 

Jonathan loosens his grip, letting his arm fall back to his side as he slides back into his chair.

"You don't really know what I've done."

"Of course I have. I told you, I've been here since the beginning."

"What, since this morning? Yea and you ate my food without asking by the way."

Felix crosses his arms and lets out a big sigh. "You know, you probably should have taken a different approach to things back then. Hell, maybe you'd have been happier sticking with that hot dog stand you had in highschool."

"...Yea whatever." 

"Hate to say it, but despite your fame, you'll never be on par with the greats. Orwell, Fitzgerald, King... no, never like them. And It's fucked up to say, but deep down you know without a shadow of a doubt that it's true."

He was right. Johnathan hates to admit it, but even he has known that his work has been lacking… something. Something to truly set it apart. Something that will make it last the tests of time. He could write a thousand stories, but without that special something, they will always be lacking.

"Hopefully whatever god you used to pray to will change things for the better soon. Or maybe it won't. I couldn't care either way. After all, despite your wealth and fame, you'll never have what they did."

"And what exactly did they have? What am I missing?"

Felix uncrosses his arm and prepares to leave, opening the heavy metal door in front of him. "...You see, if I were to tell you, it wouldn't be as satisfying as if you had found it on your own. So put that pen down, because there's no fighting it. The only people who read your stuff are single mothers with too much time on their hands. And everytime an article is written about you, people will roast the ever living fuck out of you, criticizing every last sentence."

Felix looks Johnathan up and down, his ragged body and face telling more stories than he could ever create on his own at this point. Felix leaves, and as the door begins to close Johnathan stands and catches it before it closes. 

"Hey wait a minute." Opening the door, all he sees before him is a now empty hallway. All around him, however, he hears Felix softly speaking as if he were right next to him. "I'd rather be dead than live in your shoes to be honest."