The Shadow

“The Shadow President laid his plans with care.” This one from AC Young was an interesting challenge. I prefer to avoid politics as much as one can these days, so the obvious answer is out. Similarly, while I enjoy reading some alternative/historical universes, I’m not particularly attracted to creating them. Done well, they’re great; done poorly, not so much.

But there are other types of presidents, and perhaps one of their shadows could wander off and have adventures on its own, J.M. Barrie style?

Which led to – I am not kidding – conversations about space assassins. The guild needs a president, right? What about scouting organizations? HOAs? (Please tell me we won’t export those to space.)

And that led to this.

***

“Those crows are hanging around your yard a lot.” The sharp, nasally voice interrupted George’s reading. “You’d better not be hanging up birdfeeders again.”

He put down his book with a sigh and looked over at the post-and-rail fence that had been perfectly adequate until his new neighbor moved in. Why, he’d even had conversations at the fence in the past, just like you saw on TV. With all three of this hag’s predecessors.

The hag in question was wearing her usual sweater twinset and pearls, looking for all the world like an out-of-place schoolmarm. One that tormented rather than taught students, judging by the near-permanent snarl on her face. He’d only seen it leave when she was advocating to form a homeowner’s association.

As if this neighborhood didn’t already take care of its own.

He didn’t bother to stand up and head for the fence. The conversation wouldn’t last long enough to be worth the effort. “I don’t hang up birdfeeders, Janice. Never have.” Not since Lydia passed, he amended silently. He was sure some of the crows retained fond memories, and he wouldn’t chase them off. Nor would he share Lydia’s memory with someone who didn’t value nature.

“I’m the president of the homeowners’ association, and you’d best believe I will make you find a way from keeping bird dookie off my car.”

“You want me to put up a scarecrow?” He raised his glass of iced tea in a mock toast. “Only if it will scare off the HOA I didn’t agree to belong to. I’m not subject to your rules, nor can I control the crows.”

Squeaky fuss emanated from the fenceline, but George paid it no more attention than he’d give to a yapping dog. He took a drink and picked up his book. The mystery was far more interesting than anything Janice Tweller had to say.

The light was dying by the time he turned the last page, and the air growing chill. He went inside, bones creaking after so long without moving. A solitary dinner under the kitchen lights was in his future, just as it had been for three and a half years now.

The pot was on to boil water when he realized he’d forgotten to get the mail. He was so engrossed in mocking the latest ads that were all he’d received that he nearly missed the giant red paper tacked to his front door as he trudged back inside.

Janice’s latest trick, presumably. George rolled his eyes and snagged the paper to laugh at while he made dinner.

“Well, now, Lydia.” He still talked as if his wife could hear him, and who’s to say she didn’t? “Looks like the hag has found a new way to annoy me. She thinks she’s found a legal way to force HOA membership. Plus fees, of course.”

He stirred the spaghetti sauce and gave it a taste test. “More garlic, I think. Almost ready. You’d have found a way to drive her off by now, I’m sure. I do wonder what John was thinking, selling the property to her at all.”

George drained the noodles. “Perhaps it’s time for something to convince her to move on.”

Step by step, the shadow president of the entirely unofficial, nonexistent homeowners’ association laid his plans aloud for his late wife, pausing for occasional bites of spaghetti.

His shadow nodded in response. At the end of the meal, it slipped out of the kitchen window without him and crossed over the fence line.

George sat at the table with a sad smile and took a sip of wine. “Wish you could see this, Lydia. He’ll be up to all sorts of antics now. We’ll have a ‘for sale’ sign in her yard within a week.”

***

My prompt about the aliens’ dream invasion went to Becky Jones. Check it out, as well as the rest of the More Odds Than Ends odd prompters!