A Life in the Life of Withoutashield

It was a week that began like any other. The focus on family and work was a labor of love for me. In our beautiful home in the historic part of town, we were finally living the life we had always dreamed of after years of hard work and sacrifice. Another Monday at the office…


It was a comfortable routine starting the usually blissful workweek, or so I thought…

That night I woke up several times. My brain seemed to be in a fit. I couldn’t be comfortable no matter how much I shifted. I moved to the living room so as not to wake Tish with my tossing. The creaks on the hardwood floor made my usually busy home feel lonely. The glow of Wheel of Fortune reruns were enough to will me to sleep...

I shoot awake in a cold sweat to the glow of the TV and cheers of a winner.

I felt a chill run down my spine. Something in this room was different. There it was in the corner.

I knew right away this was not one of the children’s toys. They always kept their room so clean, and I had handmade every single one of their dolls. A cool breeze touched the back of my neck like the icey graze of a transparent hand. The drapes lifted as the breeze came through the open window. I moved quickly to shut it as if there were some desperate way to stop what had already happened. Never in my life had I felt so vulnerable as this. I checked every room of my home three times. I spent the rest of the night at the kitchen table, staring at that window. At every shadow’s move, I jumped to try and find my intruder, but to no avail.

The next day of work was a difficult one. As I strived to stay awake and keep a pleasant disposition for the sake of my customers, I kept feeling as if some impending doom had cast an evil shadow over me.


I trudged home that same day. No bus for me. I felt the need to walk.

Upon being asked what was wrong at the dinner table by Tish, I only cited trouble sleeping. I would never frighten my family with the ramblings of my irrational, worn mind.

That night I tossed and turned again. Visions of that distorted toy plagued my visions as I drifted in and out of consciousness.

The next day of work proved to be even more fitful than the last. My employer saw how distraught I was when I yelled at a small boy for asking for Dijon mustard when we had no Dijon mustard.

He told me I needed to take a break. “The business gets to everyone,” he said as he patted me on the shoulders. I was given two weeks of vacation to get myself together.

Once again, I walked home. I needed time to figure out what I was going to tell Tish when I arrived home at such at early hour. I only hoped to not interrupt her crochet time before getting started on dinner. I was looking forward to seeing her new winter hat she’d been making.


Just as I turned onto my block was when I saw it. I rubbed my eyes and moved closer to make sure I wasn’t imagining things. There it was, on the concrete retaining wall across the street from my home.

Had that soulless, ganja-smoking fiend followed me here? I had assured myself that the evil twin of Shane Morris was dead and buried in my past. Was he here to haunt me once again? I ran to the general store to call Shane, my best friend from home. He was a part of another life I would never speak of in front of my family. He picks up. I can’t help but sound too excited to hear his voice. He doesn’t recognize me. He only utters the words “420, get waste.” I was too late. He had gotten Shane and now he was coming for me. I couldn’t help but feel as if his eyes were on me at that very moment.

I arrived home at the time I’d feared. Tish had to leave her crocheting as I explained what happened at work. After being subject to her disgust with me, she only made tv dinners for the family. The children cried and I felt helpless for the first time in my life.

There would be no sleep for me that night.

It was the night of the harvest moon. As usual I couldn't sleep. The creaks of my ancient home spoke to the many who'd lived and died here before me.

As I sat by the glow of the laptop, Tish slumbered beside me. She had gone to sleep without making love to me for the first time in years.

It was then, I heard it. I didn't want to believe he was here, so I kept posting to block out the fearful noise.

There, it's gone.

Ten minutes and 40 posts later, I hear it again.

This time it’s closer.

That faint giggle, as if coming from a scouring rat, coming from outside my window. I shut my laptop to be sure he doesn’t find me.

It grew louder, louder still. The giggling turns into a drug-induced cackling. I'm sure I stopped breathing.

That tiny evil laughter resonates throughout my room. I try to cover my ears.

The blinds from my bedroom window are flung aside and I see the evil that has come for me!





I now sit here and recount this from the Star Wars snow globe I bought Tish as a wedding gift that sits on our dresser.



Shawn Morris must have used the same sort of magic he used to create the time machine with his brother to imprison me in this lifeless, plastic Luke Skywalker model. That damnable Morris has stolen my life. He has taken my job, and taken my impressionable children under his wing. He moves me from time to time so I can view what he has done to my former life with my stolen body.



What’s worse is I must watch him make love to my wife every night from this dresser. She squirms in ways she never had before. This is my endless curse. I will watch my family from this snow globe until they grow old. I shall remain until I am a spectator to the oblivion.