The Voice

Damien had walked these same streets more times than he cared to count. He had lived in this town ever since he was a boy, and had been walking, driving, biking, and using any other form of transportation in it for so long, he honestly couldn't recall his first memories of doing so. He knew where all the busses stopped and at what time they did, he knew when all the shops opened and closed, and he even knew where the patrol cars liked to linger to catch unsuspecting speedsters. Damien knew everything there was to know about this little old town, and he knew he should have nothing to worry about. Though, he knew that was the operative word there, "should".

I'm not safe here. I need to get home. He thought to himself. Even amidst the crowded sidewalks and underneath the luminance of the street lights, he knew he was not safe. Why he felt this so strongly, he could not be sure. No one had threatened him or given him a funny look, no one had bumped him or pulled a weapon near him, no one had even seemed to acknowledge the hunched over, sweaty, middle aged man at all. But he knew. There was something wrong with what was happening around him. There had to be.

Folding deeper into himself, Damien weaved in and out of the constant flow of pedestrians, taking no note of any of them. The only thing he allowed himself to take notice of were the slowly growing shadows that seemed to react to his passing. He knew he couldn't let them reach him, not after last time. No, instead Damien kept his gaze focused on the sidewalk, straight ahead, and away from anything else that might catch his attention.

There's a man in front of me. Damien barely had time to even register the thought before he felt his right shoulder forcefully jerk to the right, throwing him off balance for a moment before righting himself. His eyes inevitably turned to see the man that had moved past him, a well dressed man in an unblemished jacket with what looked like a plaid business shirt underneath. The pedestrian looked up from his phone for the briefest of moments to give a scowl at Damien.

"Watch you're walking, bud." Said the man in a bitter tone. Damien did not react to the man's words, and in fact could scarcely bring himself to move at all as the man stepped into one of the shadows he'd been so careful to avoid. As the man lifted his foot, Damien felt his stomach fall into his feet. In the center of that darkness was now an empty space, the sidewalk clearly visible underneath as the darkness attached itself to the man.

Don't say anything. Just keep going. He thought to himself. It was wrong, to leave the man like that, Damien knew it. He knew he should say something, a warning of some kind. Would the man even believe him, though? So many people hadn't. Besides, he thought, maybe it would buy him time, time he so desperately needed. So he turned and walked, forcing himself to think of home, of his apartment and his bed, and not what would happen to the man.

Each footfall felt heavier than the last, and Damien began to realize just how many things he hadn't paid attention to. The street lamps, the benches and cement parking bricks, all of them casting long shadows, each of them masking what he knew was out there. His heart continued to race as he forced himself to focus. Keep track of them, watch them, he told himself. Count them, he thought, keep your eye on them.

Stay out of them, keep going. Just gotta get home. He thought to himself. If he could just get home, he could keep all the lights on, keep it at bay. He would be safe there, he had to be. All of Damien's progression, however, was stopped when he found himself at a familiar crosswalk, one that separated his local park from the apartment complex in which he called home. A sudden barrage of cars began to pass underneath the street lamps, forcing Damien to stop and wait.

Every car that passed only caused his heart to beat faster. Come on, he thought to himself, where were so many people going in a hurry? Why this late at night? Damien could feel his animosity for his fellow man growing as his fists clenched tightly in his pockets, almost wishing they would just disappear. Before long, however, Damien remembered the real danger, and found himself paranoid once again, he had forgotten to keep an eye on the dark.