And in this lonely night a soft wind blew. Cold and unwelcoming, but he had to move on. The darkness that the night had casted on the streets was ominous, but the dim light given off by candle-lit lamposts seemed to bring life into this deathly scene.

The light casted a shadow behind him as he walked past, and just when he felt that he was being followed, it would disappear back into the darkness, to hide itself from the world. And again and again this went on, as his slow heavy and lifeless footsteps brought him closer to the next lampost, and then away into the night once again.

How he wished he could be like his shadow. To appear when things seemed right, and when the going gets bad, disappear and hide.

Disappear and hide. . .

For now he knew the truth. The dreeadful truth that he had hoped to never hear. The painful piercing words that could never be taken back once said. It left scars on him, deep bloody scars and though they might heal in time to come, he himself, will never.