A child sat there on the edge of a harsh, concrete platform, silently, yet nervously waiting. As he waited, he exhaled puffs of hot breath into the freezing night air, pretending to be a dragon. Pitiful, was this petite figure, docily waiting for a fate that would never be, for the memory of a person who would never come. Despite knowing this, the child still persevered long after his friends had left for home, hand in hand with protective parents, when the darkness had begun to creep too close. Such basic necessity, was the dream that the child was waiting for, but would never fully find. Winter’s night was thick in the air, as the playground turned from a joy-filled haven to a graveyard of once treasured memories, where merriment exploded into dust at a mere glance. Night spirits ran amok with those who treasured the dusklight, while the boy shivered. Tonight, he promised himself. Tonight it will happen.
Death had stolen that, which was most precious; combined with no concept of such processes, left a hope that such could be reversed. Such frivolous hopes, had been hijacked and sidetracked by some force of the darkness which now surrounded both Father and son. While some had been born to such darkness, others had chosen it, and others had such terrible darkness thrust upon them. Choices were minimal when such a fate awaited one, making darkness unsafe. There were reasons for doors, thresholds, safe holdings and these creatures were it.
Strength unknown crept towards the child, unwilling, yet unable to resist. Tonight, it will happen; there is no escaping the destiny caused by a little boys desperate pleas to a deity with a corrupt, unforgiving soul and a sense of humour harsh enough to cut the world in two. Death, in the form of the child’s Father approached. Maybe, just maybe, there would be enough strength, courage, humanness left in the Father to turn his son, once his hunger was sated. Fate could turn in funny ways, even for a just turned child of the night.
Fate would tell, just like it always did.A surprised, yet almost happy screech which turned into a bleak scream of fear and disbelief could be heard across town, in the supermarket carpark. A tired young Mother, who had just finished her weekly shop, looked blankly up towards the hilltop park for a vague moment. Turning her head back to her set of keys, she opened the car door before vigorously stuffing her bulky shopping bags into the boot of the small, ancient car. Such things were not for her to deal with.
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