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The City at Night

By Andrea Luque All Rights Reserved ©

Mystery / Horror

Chapter 1

Cities can be beautiful, but they can be ugly too. It all depends on the perspective. A lot of people don’t know everything that happens in a city, especially during the night. New and old souls come to life, to enjoy the quiet of the night. The dark streets and alleys, the smell of trash on the sidewalks, the quiet sound of distant sirens, footsteps, the bark of street dogs. It all comes together in a symphony that only those with taste find exquisite. Prejudices die in the night. Bravery emerges from the most coward men, although sometimes after a few drinks. Darkness emerges also. The kind of darkness that comes with dark feelings.


I’ve always loved the city at night. I’ve always loved it, until now. I’m walking pass the garbage and the empty alleys as fast as I can because I need to get into safety as soon as possible. I’m shaking. I can feel the cold deep in my bones, but it’s not too cold outside. I can’t seem to focus properly. But I know that there’s nothing wrong with me. My hearing sense is sharpened, and I can hear my own footsteps echo in my head. I can hear even the faintest noise. But I don’t stop. I keep walking.


I can’t seem to remember why I’m feeling like this. There’s some blurry in the back of my mind that screams “run!” at my feet. I try to ignore it, though I try to walk faster. I feel my shirt damp against my body, but it’s not raining, and I’m not sweating. My hands are numb, and I feel as if the white noise from a radio is running through my veins. I keep walking, until I see some lights up ahead. I walked towards it, and that’s when my steps start to feel heavier by the second. My focus is worse, but at least now I can see. My shirt is damp because if soaked in blood. My hands have blood on them too. Now, I don’t feel anything. I don’t feel the pavement underneath my feet. I don’t feel the cold, nor the warmth. Am I dying? Not quite. I still know that I’m a tangible corpse, but I seem to have lost the intangible self that comes with it. As I approach the lights, my vision starts clearing; but it’s not seeing what’s ahead, but what’s behind. What I left behind to find the lights. What are those lights anyway?


They are weird. They are in the middle of what I asume is the street, just suspended, so they can’t be light poles. It intrigues me, but that’s not why I walk towards them. The lights are getting stronger and brighter, just as I start seeing images in the middle of them. There are two silhouettes at first. Nothing more than two dark figures that seem struggling. I come closer. I can see that it is two men fighting. It seems a familiar scenery. I come even closer. I can make out a face, but the other one is distorted. I get closer. I can see the fear in one of the men’s eyes. What is he afraid of? The distorted man a knife, and I see as he stabs the other in the stomach. Something strange happens then. I start feeling pain in my abdomen, so I clutch it with my hands. It’s a sharp pain and then I feel a sticky substance running through my fingers. I see the man taking out the knife, and stabbing the other again, this time in the neck. However, this time I feel no pain at all; but I do feel warm liquid running down my torso from my neck. My steps are even heavier than before, but I try to keep moving towards the light. I can’t take my eyes off of it. About three sets later, the scared man turns and looks at me. Suddenly, I’m not walking anymore. I’m inside the light, and the other’s face is no longer distorted. I can see him. His mouth is smiling, but his eyes show a mixture of agony and joy. That’s the last thing I see.

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