Nexus 100 Months, Hours, Sight, Days, Years
Title: One month more
Fandom: The Shadow
Characters: Kent Allard
Prompt: 009 Months
Word Count: 224
Rating: PG
Summary: A very early point in The Shadow’s life, in a French field hospital.
Author's Notes: Not one of my best, but I wandered through some historical research for accuracy.
A month before, America had officially joined the war. They were all too glad to have the promising young Secret Service man transfer from his British employers to U.S. intelligence. Kent Allard was American by birth, after all, but his early recruitment was a mark of his impatience with his own country. Their action was late, but needed all the same.
Two months before, Demoralized from the ongoing failure to turn the tides of war, French men refused to advance on an enemy they knew they could not defeat. There were desertions on the front line, then mutinies. He had been sent to investigate, and to help. It was too little, too late. Fighting to hold things together while American troops joined the battle, Kent Allard could not hope to succeed.
In a month, the British would form a grand assault against the Germans. One month and the tides would begin, slowly, to turn. Already it was too late to save Kent Allard from the scars of war.
Between the bandages, only his vivid blue eyes were undamaged. In a month, he would be free from the hospital, perfecting disguise over the ruins of his face. In disgust he threw aside the French newssheet and rolled over in the cot. It would be a month before he could throw himself back into the fray.
Title: The Work of an Hour
Fandom: The Shadow
Characters: The Shadow
Prompt: 006 Hours
Word Count: 183
Rating: G
Summary: A moment in the Sanctum.
Author's Notes: I’ll confess I’ve struggled with the prompts involving time, but it was a good chance to write about the odd clock mentioned in the pulps.
When the blue light clicked on, it revealed a strange clock of concentric rings, on which a sudden motion revealed the change of the hour. There were no hands, but twelve numbers ringed the central circle, and sixty on each of the outer two allowed a showing of every increment of time. A small ring extended from a groove at the outer edge of each circle, moving in quiet ticks to highlight a number, such that when the hour changed the shift seemed a sudden one. As the seconds played out on the largest of the circles, their progress seemed extended, and time seemed to slow by this clock.
Long hands bore papers to the desk on which the clock sat. There were clippings and photographs, handwritten notes, and blank sheets ready to hold written thoughts or instructions. The information that appeared on this desk would be drawn together to form a plan that combated crime. Papers would be cleared away and the blue light clicked off before the ring to show the hour moved again. Much could happen in a single hour.
Title: Dim Reflection
Fandom: The Shadow
Characters: Lamont Cranston, The Shadow
Prompt: 040 Sight
Word Count: 201
Rating: G
Summary: Cranston’s thoughts on being impersonated.
Author's Notes: The first time I read The Shadow and the real Cranston interacting, I was annoyed by the unusual friendly attitude The Shadow seemed to have towards him. After some thought and re-reading I came to the impression that it’s not The Shadow being friendly so much as amusing himself by pretending to be Cranston at the real Cranston.
As the shock wore off, Lamont Cranston found some flattery in having a double. On the rare occasions when he was confronted with himself, he found entertainment in watching The Shadow’s impeccable performance. In conversation he would find his every gesture and expression reflected back at him. The voice was so perfectly matched that anyone listening would have thought him to be talking to himself. The mysterious man who wore his face tossed back ‘old boy’s and easy smiles that softened the demands of his instructions. Cranston felt privileged to be sole audience to such a wonderful show, although it sometimes crossed his mind it might be practice as much as it was a game. Still, he could not help but feel a touch of ego at watching himself so elegantly mirrored.
Yet in the height of his private amusement, there were moments when he found his eyes met with a less languorous gaze. Drilled by a piercing look he could never match, Cranston felt himself less. In those moments his ego shrank beneath the vivid intelligence that had raked his person to the depths, to become more him than he was. In the Shadow’s eyes he was a dim reflection.
Title: The Measure of his Days
Fandom: The Shadow
Characters: The Shadow
Prompt: 007 Days
Word Count: 113
Rating: G
Summary: Just another abstract about his lifestyle.
Author's Notes: Not one of the better ones, I think… I had three different bits written and this was the best of the lot…
He was a man who measured time in terms of urgency. Every case was a separate clock, ticking away in stuttering gasps of action needed or the wait for the criminal’s next move. Hours and even minutes counted in the development of criminal plots. In the heat of battle, life and death came down to a matter of seconds.
Waking and sleeping was dictated by the work, brief snatches of rest when the chances came, or longer stretches when some unfortunate incident forced him to unconsciousness. He worked night and day, his schedule erratic. His life was counted in seconds, in minutes, in hours. But of all markings of time, days he disregarded.
Title: Marks of the Years
Fandom: The Shadow
Characters: The Shadow (older), Lamont Cranston, Harry Vincent
Prompt: 010 Years
Word Count: 291
Rating: G
Summary: The Shadow finally notices time has crept up on him.
Author's Notes: Age creeps up on most people, but the sudden shock is worse to someone active and healthy because the face no longer seems to match the age you think of yourself as.
Time slid by, marked by the dates of wars and personal battles in the grand chase to obliterate crime. The Shadow made no habit of marking the years, too busy in the act of living his life in pursuit of justice to be bothered with such demarcations. Every waking moment was important, but he did not add them up as they passed.
The first silver hair was calmly noted in the mirror. When there were enough to be noticeable he added temporary hair dyes to his disguise kits. This was no matter of vanity, and as long as the grey matched Cranston or whoever else he was made up to be, he let it stand. In time he was forced to add a graying agent to match the real Lamont Cranston, along with the gradually changing lines of the face. The lines deepening around his own eyes were simply another aspect to the art of disguise.
It annoyed him, privately, when Harry Vincent expressed mild reluctance over a job that was likely to involve some very physical fighting. When Lamont Cranston, slightly heavier and no longer as fond of safaris, informed him he was considering retiring to the Caribbean it was unwelcome news. A more permanent absence would rob him of use of that alias, unless Cranston was willing to take up one himself. With a familiarity that made him scowl, the millionaire suggested the unthinkable. Surely even The Shadow must someday retire?
Later, sitting before the mirror to change his disguise, the face caught his gaze and held it. A scowl deepening the furrows of his forehead, an old man looked back at The Shadow from the glass. He had not marked the years, but the years had marked him.
I realized I've been remiss in posting these, and I still have several more waiting to see the light of the internet. To make up for the long break in posting, I thought I should post a larger batch. The order is deliberate, a sort of a rough chronological timeline. I seem to have been writing more depressing ones as of late...
Fandom: The Shadow
Characters: Kent Allard
Prompt: 009 Months
Word Count: 224
Rating: PG
Summary: A very early point in The Shadow’s life, in a French field hospital.
Author's Notes: Not one of my best, but I wandered through some historical research for accuracy.
A month before, America had officially joined the war. They were all too glad to have the promising young Secret Service man transfer from his British employers to U.S. intelligence. Kent Allard was American by birth, after all, but his early recruitment was a mark of his impatience with his own country. Their action was late, but needed all the same.
Two months before, Demoralized from the ongoing failure to turn the tides of war, French men refused to advance on an enemy they knew they could not defeat. There were desertions on the front line, then mutinies. He had been sent to investigate, and to help. It was too little, too late. Fighting to hold things together while American troops joined the battle, Kent Allard could not hope to succeed.
In a month, the British would form a grand assault against the Germans. One month and the tides would begin, slowly, to turn. Already it was too late to save Kent Allard from the scars of war.
Between the bandages, only his vivid blue eyes were undamaged. In a month, he would be free from the hospital, perfecting disguise over the ruins of his face. In disgust he threw aside the French newssheet and rolled over in the cot. It would be a month before he could throw himself back into the fray.
Title: The Work of an Hour
Fandom: The Shadow
Characters: The Shadow
Prompt: 006 Hours
Word Count: 183
Rating: G
Summary: A moment in the Sanctum.
Author's Notes: I’ll confess I’ve struggled with the prompts involving time, but it was a good chance to write about the odd clock mentioned in the pulps.
When the blue light clicked on, it revealed a strange clock of concentric rings, on which a sudden motion revealed the change of the hour. There were no hands, but twelve numbers ringed the central circle, and sixty on each of the outer two allowed a showing of every increment of time. A small ring extended from a groove at the outer edge of each circle, moving in quiet ticks to highlight a number, such that when the hour changed the shift seemed a sudden one. As the seconds played out on the largest of the circles, their progress seemed extended, and time seemed to slow by this clock.
Long hands bore papers to the desk on which the clock sat. There were clippings and photographs, handwritten notes, and blank sheets ready to hold written thoughts or instructions. The information that appeared on this desk would be drawn together to form a plan that combated crime. Papers would be cleared away and the blue light clicked off before the ring to show the hour moved again. Much could happen in a single hour.
Title: Dim Reflection
Fandom: The Shadow
Characters: Lamont Cranston, The Shadow
Prompt: 040 Sight
Word Count: 201
Rating: G
Summary: Cranston’s thoughts on being impersonated.
Author's Notes: The first time I read The Shadow and the real Cranston interacting, I was annoyed by the unusual friendly attitude The Shadow seemed to have towards him. After some thought and re-reading I came to the impression that it’s not The Shadow being friendly so much as amusing himself by pretending to be Cranston at the real Cranston.
As the shock wore off, Lamont Cranston found some flattery in having a double. On the rare occasions when he was confronted with himself, he found entertainment in watching The Shadow’s impeccable performance. In conversation he would find his every gesture and expression reflected back at him. The voice was so perfectly matched that anyone listening would have thought him to be talking to himself. The mysterious man who wore his face tossed back ‘old boy’s and easy smiles that softened the demands of his instructions. Cranston felt privileged to be sole audience to such a wonderful show, although it sometimes crossed his mind it might be practice as much as it was a game. Still, he could not help but feel a touch of ego at watching himself so elegantly mirrored.
Yet in the height of his private amusement, there were moments when he found his eyes met with a less languorous gaze. Drilled by a piercing look he could never match, Cranston felt himself less. In those moments his ego shrank beneath the vivid intelligence that had raked his person to the depths, to become more him than he was. In the Shadow’s eyes he was a dim reflection.
Title: The Measure of his Days
Fandom: The Shadow
Characters: The Shadow
Prompt: 007 Days
Word Count: 113
Rating: G
Summary: Just another abstract about his lifestyle.
Author's Notes: Not one of the better ones, I think… I had three different bits written and this was the best of the lot…
He was a man who measured time in terms of urgency. Every case was a separate clock, ticking away in stuttering gasps of action needed or the wait for the criminal’s next move. Hours and even minutes counted in the development of criminal plots. In the heat of battle, life and death came down to a matter of seconds.
Waking and sleeping was dictated by the work, brief snatches of rest when the chances came, or longer stretches when some unfortunate incident forced him to unconsciousness. He worked night and day, his schedule erratic. His life was counted in seconds, in minutes, in hours. But of all markings of time, days he disregarded.
Title: Marks of the Years
Fandom: The Shadow
Characters: The Shadow (older), Lamont Cranston, Harry Vincent
Prompt: 010 Years
Word Count: 291
Rating: G
Summary: The Shadow finally notices time has crept up on him.
Author's Notes: Age creeps up on most people, but the sudden shock is worse to someone active and healthy because the face no longer seems to match the age you think of yourself as.
Time slid by, marked by the dates of wars and personal battles in the grand chase to obliterate crime. The Shadow made no habit of marking the years, too busy in the act of living his life in pursuit of justice to be bothered with such demarcations. Every waking moment was important, but he did not add them up as they passed.
The first silver hair was calmly noted in the mirror. When there were enough to be noticeable he added temporary hair dyes to his disguise kits. This was no matter of vanity, and as long as the grey matched Cranston or whoever else he was made up to be, he let it stand. In time he was forced to add a graying agent to match the real Lamont Cranston, along with the gradually changing lines of the face. The lines deepening around his own eyes were simply another aspect to the art of disguise.
It annoyed him, privately, when Harry Vincent expressed mild reluctance over a job that was likely to involve some very physical fighting. When Lamont Cranston, slightly heavier and no longer as fond of safaris, informed him he was considering retiring to the Caribbean it was unwelcome news. A more permanent absence would rob him of use of that alias, unless Cranston was willing to take up one himself. With a familiarity that made him scowl, the millionaire suggested the unthinkable. Surely even The Shadow must someday retire?
Later, sitting before the mirror to change his disguise, the face caught his gaze and held it. A scowl deepening the furrows of his forehead, an old man looked back at The Shadow from the glass. He had not marked the years, but the years had marked him.
I realized I've been remiss in posting these, and I still have several more waiting to see the light of the internet. To make up for the long break in posting, I thought I should post a larger batch. The order is deliberate, a sort of a rough chronological timeline. I seem to have been writing more depressing ones as of late...