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Me and My Shadow


Carl Gustav Jung, said: “The Shadow is the unknown ‘dark side’ of our personality – dark both because it tends to consist predominantly of the primitive, negative, socially or religiously depreciated human emotions and impulses like sexual lust, power strivings, selfishness, greed, envy, anger or rage, and due to its unenlightened nature, completely obscured from consciousness.”

Of course, Jung was referring to aspects of personality; he had no idea that our actual shadows were the very embodiment of these traits.

Gerard knows, or at least, he will shortly.

It was the fourth interview Gerard had attended and even before he walked in, he knew he wasn’t going to get the job – just like he hadn’t managed to get any of the others. Fresh out of art college with a bachelor’s degree and serious talent, well that’s what he had been told in college. He only wished he believed it, no strike that, he wished he could come anywhere close to believing it. It didn’t matter what Mikey said; he was family and family will lie to you if they think it would help. It didn’t matter what Ray said to him; Ray was his best friend and, well, similar story. It never actually occurred to him at any point that friends and family also tell the truth.

It was a huge building, with all the noise and bustle of a successful business. The noise of copiers, printers, people clacking away on keyboards dealing with the vast amount of administration aspects of such a large company filled his ears as he was led through to the art department. There his eyes widened as he drank in the beautiful sight of row after row of large spacious cubicles each with its own adjustable drawing board, surrounded by pens, pencils, inks, acetates and every piece of equipment he had ever dreamed of using. This was Heaven and he tried his best to imagine himself hunched over one of the drawing boards, creating brand new superheroes, perhaps an award or two gracing the cubicle. He had a wonderful imagination, but somehow it stopped short of actually picturing himself in that scene. Deflated, he followed Miss Birch, Mr Jenson’s secretary toward the office at the end of the corridor.

“Excuse me, Mr Jenson,” Miss Birch spoke softly as she entered the office. “Mr Way to see you regarding the Design Artist post.”
“Ah, yes,” he gestured to the woman. “Send him in.”

“Good morning, Mr…”
“Take a seat,” he interrupted brusquely.

The office was imposing and well-equipped with a large centrally located desk. Gerard couldn’t help but notice the power dynamic in the room; the man behind the desk was seated in a luxurious, black leather, high-backed office chair, whilst Gerard was hunched over almost apologetically in a much smaller chair. Even without him being almost folded in on himself he appeared lost in comparison. Another apparently calculated move was that the window blinds were letting in sunlight that fell directly over Gerard’s chair, forcing him to squint uncomfortably. Jenson had neither shaken his hand nor shown any interest in him since he had walked in.

Sitting in the small chair, Gerard placed his portfolio across his lap and looked up at Jenson expectantly. The man in his late fifties merely leaned back in the chair and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, show me your work, I don’t have x-ray vision, you know.”

The unnecessary sharpness of his tone surprised Gerard and he almost dropped the portfolio as he began to unzip the large black case. Standing up, he opened the folder across the desk and began to talk in detail about what he considered were his best pieces. How he had conceived the new characters, what traits, quirks and powers they possessed. He even began outlining a possible storyline. He was happiest when talking about his art. It filled him with joy and it gave him purpose.

“Tell me about yourself,” Jenson interrupted him, almost intent on making him feel ill at ease.

Gerard always hated that question; he was no good at selling himself and even as he thought about what to say, his mouth dried and he even felt slightly light-headed. Fighting off the terrible feeling, Gerard stumbled through an account of what led him to art and to that company in particular. Well, not the truth for the latter, obviously. The truth was, he’d tried his first three choices and he was getting desperate. Even as he spoke, he could almost feel Jenson shutting down.

Offering a somewhat bored sigh as he closed the folder on the desk in front of him, Jenson eyed him curiously.

“Your portfolio is a bit sparse, Mr Day.”

Gerard frowned as the man got his name wrong. Worse even than that; the folder was full, it was just that the man had barely looked at it.

“It’s Way,” Gerard corrected him. “Gerard Way.”

Gerard cursed himself internally for raising the pitch of his voice at the end of the sentence, almost saying his name as if it were a question. Looking at the ignored portfolio, he raised a hand almost timidly and placed it on the folder.

“Mr Jenson, I worked very hard on this. Everything in here represents…”
“I don’t think we’ve got anything for you, Mr Way,” Jenson pushed the portfolio towards Gerard with a finality that brooked no argument. “My secretary will see you out,” he added, pressing a button on the intercom on his desk.

“Thank you for your time,” Gerard muttered. “Perhaps you could keep my résumé…?”
“Miss Birch,” Jenson interrupted as his secretary entered. “Could you see Mr…” he snapped his fingers a couple of times.
“Way,” Gerard replied tiredly.
“Could you see him out, please?”
“Yes, Mr Jenson,” She replied politely as Gerard followed her to the door, his portfolio tucked under his arm.
“Is he always like that?” Gerard asked the moment the door was closed behind him.
“Like what?” Miss Birch asked; it seemed that even her tone had changed towards him.
“Doesn’t matter,” Gerard sighed as he headed toward the door.

Handing his visitors pass to the security guard at the main reception desk, Gerard pulled his jacket close around him as he stepped out into the chilly street.

“I don’t know why you put up with that,” came a quiet voice at his side.
“Oh, not you again!”

Gerard quickly pushed a hand into his black hair to ruffle his previous ‘interview tidy’ style and return it to something much more resembling a bad night’s sleep. The irony wasn’t lost on him – that’s exactly what the last three days had meant to him. He had worked ceaselessly for this interview and some of his best ever work had gone unnoticed, again. He wondered if he wasn’t just convincing himself of talent he didn’t possess.

Gerard was possibly the epitome of the starving artist living on coffee and cigarettes with all available money used to by paper, canvasses, pencils, pens, ink, paint and a multitude of other art supplies. Daily he cursed himself for choosing a career that was so expensive just to show people what he was capable of. Today had left him pretty much resigned to the fact that he would always spend more money on it than he would ever make. It would never be a career. The thought seeped into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome and it lowered his mood still further.

Lately it seemed that he could muster no positive thoughts – but for him. Him, the voice he kept hearing like an incessant buzzing in his ear. No one was ever there, well, certainly no one he could see anyway. It could only have been some manifestation of his own thoughts and yet, it spoke with a different voice entirely. Lately, Gerard had taken to answering him – realising that it was a wonder he hadn’t been committed to an asylum yet.

“What do you want now?” Gerard grumbled as he headed along the street, checking if he had enough money for bus fare, frowning when he realised he’d be walking home.
“Same as always,” the voice announced, “I want you to believe in yourself.”
“Believe in myself?” Gerard laughed. “I’ve been thrown out of every interview I’ve had for a job as a comic book artist, I only eat when Mikey buys me something. I only have somewhere to live because Ray pays the rent and I’m talking to myself! And you want me to believe in myself?”
“You’re not talking to yourself, you’re talking to me!” the voice came back haughtily.
“And who are you, if not me?”

Gerard shook his head as he received another deep frown from a passer-by and a woman pulled her child to one side to avoid the ‘strange man’.

“I’m your fairy godfather,” the voice replied proudly.

Gerard laughed. It was laugh or cry and he opted to laugh – now quite concerned for his sanity. Ducking into a quiet alley, to avoid the continued angry, scared or confused expressions of the general public, Gerard took a deep breath. This was weirder than normal – he’d never had a full conversation with the voice before.

“You don’t believe in me, do you?”
“I’m talking to you aren’t I?” Gerard countered.
“No,” the voice grumbled in reply. “You think you’re talking to yourself.”
“Well, it’s hard to believe otherwise when I can’t see you!”
“What do you mean you can’t see me?” the pitch of the voice rose in indignant disappointment. “I’m right here!”

Gerard turned to look, as he had on many occasions before. Always previously, he had seen nothing, but not today. Hovering roughly at nose height was a tiny man possibly three, maybe four inches in height, dressed in a black suit and a white button down shirt with a red tie. His black hair short at the sides with a longer sweep of jet black over his face coming to a curved point almost meeting his nose ring. His dark eyes lined with heavy pink eyeliner that matched his sparkling wings.


“What the hell are you?” Gerard asked in disbelief as with a flutter of those tiny pink wings, the man flew to hover in front of him, finally settling on Gerard’s hand as he raised it as if encouraging a small bird to land on his finger.
“I told you,” he beamed. “I’m your fairy godfather, but you can call me Frankie.”


Hi! Okay, so, not really sure where this one will end up and already done a big re-write because the first draft wasn't nearly good enough. It's something of a departure for me and I felt like pushing myself. I hope you like it - because it's new ground for me, I don't know if it'll work or not. It would help if you let me know if you're enjoying it/what works etc. Anyway, I hope you like it.

Take care all
Sas xo


Frank could turn into anything and I'd still love him!! :D Hehe, glad you're enjoying this. It's a bit of a departure for me and I'm way out of my comfort zone with it. I've nearly abandoned it twice. I have serious doubts about my writing ability and am easily convinced that I should stop, so this one's a struggle for me. But I'm staying with it :D

Thanks for the comment, I really appreciate it!
Sas xx

SaskiaK SaskiaK

Ayyyyy, followed you here from The Collector! I’m loving this one too! It’s really good, really funny! Cant wait to read more!

Oh and did you enjoy Frank? Not sure about down in London, but at the Newcastle show he didn’t turn into an eight foot demon. Or a unicorn.

Oh, sorry! I didn't realise. A combination of self-doubt and that I'm really so far out of my comfort zone with this story - it's nothing like the sort of thing I usually write, - I think I just assumed the worst.
I'm glad you're still enjoying it :)
Sas xx

SaskiaK SaskiaK

By bad I meant what shadow Gerard was doing!!

domebedward domebedward

Oh no. I'm worried about real Gerard and tiny Frankie

domebedward domebedward