He was in his mid forties and spent the majority of those years languishing in complete obscurity. Its clichéd to say but he was just one of those people that did not stand out in a crowd.
It wasn't that he chose to be this way, it was just the hand that life dealt him and he accepted it without question.
Shyness had a lot to do with his station in life, but he could thank his upbringing for that. He was raised in a very religious setting where original and creative thoughts outside what the bible taught were squashed like a bug on a windshield. Thanks to this he did not even lose his virginity until he left home and went away to college, and only then because his friend's drunken sister all but forced herself on him.
He never married and had only one girlfriend his entire life and that had been almost ten years ago. She lived across the hall from his apartment, and like the girl who took his virginity; she almost had to rape him the first time before he finally grew use to her and would accept her advances. They spent less than a year together when her job took her to another part of the country, and she moved away. There were other women in his life, but as always they took control and were the ones that initiated the encounter. They were often very bold and almost forceful in their insistence on having sex with him.
As is often the case when a person is crippled with shyness and self doubt, the world never gets to see what really lies beneath, and he was no different. Inside he was the complete opposite and was almost a genius in his thought processes and creativity. He studied writing in college in hopes of channeling this into great works of religious fiction, but at that time he had no idea where his real gift as an author lie.
It was less than three blocks from his apartment to his office so he walked it every day, stopping along the way to grab the Denver Post and a bagel. As he stood at the red traffic light, he glanced through the paper, but he felt like he was being watched. He turned and looked. Two young ladies sitting at an outdoor table by a nearby café were both staring at him. As he turned and looked at them, they both smiled and simultaneously the old familiar butterflies welled up in his stomach and his face flushed red.
When the light changed to green, he quickly crossed the street and made his way down the sidewalk toward his office. Having arrived at his office, he reached in his pocket and removed the keys. Unlocking the door he made his way in and let the door clang closed behind him. Flipping on the light it illuminated the small reception area, and passing through it he went to the only other door which led to his medium sized office.
Once inside his office he tossed the newspaper on his desk and then made his way to the bathroom, the only other room in the three room office where he came to work, something he did seven days a week. Entering the bathroom he closed the door behind him despite being alone in the office, something most people do without thinking about it. Once he was done he flushed the toilet and washed his hands at which time he opened the door and stepped back into his office.
Going to his desk he pulled out his chair and, as he sat down, he reached over and switched on his computer. As the screen flickered and it started to warm up he paged through the newspaper some more. As his wallpaper appeared he reached for the mouse and clicked to check his email, waiting for them all to download.
"Mostly junk," he thought to himself as he started going through them one by one. Half way down he came to the one he hoped would be there. It was from his editor, and he clicked on it to open it.
"You did it again Shadow. I didn't have to change a thing," it read. "Probably your best work to date."
Closing the letter he forwarded it and then finished cleaning out his inbox and found only one more email worth reading. It was from his best and only true friend Steve, so he opened it and read.
"Hey, buddy, do me a favor and put a bug in Amanda's ear to call her mom. I know she's busy with school and work, but it's been over a week since she called or sent a text, and I am the one who is catching hell from Peggy." In the next line he wrote, "By the way I logged on last night and read your newest story. It was fantastic. Don't know how you do it but don't stop."
Steve had been his best friend since college, and it was in fact Steve's little sister Cindy who took his virginity so long ago when they spent the holidays at his parents. Being his best friend Steve was the only one who truly knew him inside and out. Over the years his friendship had been invaluable in overcoming his lack of social skills. In fact it was at Steve's insistence that he took the road he did that ended up leading him to his small but successful career.
It was just after college when he moved here to Denver to start a career as a young writer. He was mostly working on articles for religious magazines but was not having any luck getting them published. He was writing and submitting his work for about eight months when Steve came to spend a weekend with him and to attend a concert in town. While using his computer that weekend Steve stumbled onto a story that was never intended for anyone's eyes but his own.
At the time he wrote it, he was very angry and frustrated because none of his work was being published. He was also angry at himself for being socially awkward, but mostly he was angry at the religion that made him such an introvert. He was tired of feeling guilty every time he had any kind of thought that went against his upbringing, and, as he sat there at the computer, the anger grew greater inside of him and he just started to type. As years of guilt and sexual frustration flowed out of his fingers and onto the key board he wrote...
The Church of Hate By Shadow
It was almost dark when I snuck through the back door of the church; I knew they would be here but the fact that the lights were on proved my assumption correct. I was slowly making my way down the hall that led to the church office where I knew they would be. He was probably writing his Sunday sermon, more words from God to punish young minds. It was Pastor Jones, the head of the Trinity Church of Christ, I was here to see along with his young bride Elena who he had brought back from one of his many mission trips to the Ukraine, a young blond girl half the pastor's age. The pastor worshiped the ground that Elena walked on, and it seemed every sermon he gave involved some tale about her and her country.
As I approached the open door of the office, I stopped just short of the entrance so I could listen. Inside I heard the clacking of his fingers on the keyboard and the low sound of modern Christian music with an upbeat tempo coming from what I assumed was a stereo. Not long after I arrived at the door the typing stopped and I heard Pastor Jones say, "Elena why don't you run down to the chicken joint and grab us a bucket of chicken for dinner. I am going to be here a while so we might as well eat."
"As you wish," and I heard her slide her chair back and stand up.
Scrambling but still quiet I backed up and ducked into the broom closet so she would not see me as she came out of the door. No sooner had I made it inside than I heard her steps going down the hall towards the front door. When I heard the echo of the big door clanging shut and reverberating through the empty church, I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a short piece of pipe.
Quietly making my way down the hall again, I reached the door of the office, only this time I leaned forward, and peaking around the door frame, I looked in. He was sitting at his desk with his back to me not ten feet away, and he was looking at something on the screen. I couldn't see the entire screen because he was blocking it with his body, but I could see enough to realize it was homosexual pornography.
It was a hatred for this man that had brought me here tonight, and I was determined to make him pay for the hurt he had caused me. I was only nineteen years old, but I knew what I was doing and had been planning it for months. My parents used the teachings of this man to crush my free spirit and rein guilt down on me almost daily. Any thought or action deemed unchristian like was treated as an affront to God, and I was forced to pray for hours for forgiveness.
