This place where once I knew the way has darkened before me and I see only the shadows of those who pass me by. I huddle in the secluded security of the alleyways, afraid of those who might accidently sense me and thereby find it in their hearts to show me malice. This city is always dark and I find no solace in the sometimes friendly gazes of the late night strollers when I know that beneath the veneer only a calculated cool exists.
This city, where the moon no longer rises except behind the ever-present dank clouds coveting the sky, was once my home and a place of happiness. These very alleys where I seek shelter were my childhood haunts of old - places where games of fancy were played with the mates of youth. Now all that remains are the walls and the occasional trace of memory that lingers long after those who treasured it are gone. The street's asphalt is still as rough as it was once.
Tonight is special, tonight is the final day - the omega of it all. Despite my fear and pain, relief and happiness floods my being. For what greater happiness is there than absolute freedom? The numbness that comes with the acceptance of what must inevitably cross our paths. Alone, huddled in this stark landscape of brick and asphalt and stale beer, I wait.
The night stretches onward, the passage of time marked by the number of lights the building sitting opposite my despicable refuge. Twenty-two were visible just after the first wave of drones left their daytime hive, now only four remain. It is with these four solitary people with whom I feel the most connection out of everyone in this hated city. These four who are so far from each other, unknowing of the existence of others and believing they are the only ones left in the building. They never meet for they leave at different times and the upper left is always the last light to extinguish, but they all work toward some same purpose. I too know that there are people in this city who do not wish me harm, but they are too far from me to acknowledge and my searches for their warm hands only leads me to darkened offices and alleyways. Two lights are left.
A chill descends and I smile - it marks the coming of the icy lords, the fairies of the snow and cold and holiday seasons. When good cheer is spread among those you know and those you know but do not actually care for - because it is the season and all must give regardless of taste.
(to be continued at a later date)
