Hiding in Daylight

Prologue

Ahmet trudged wearily through the rain-soaked streets, his footsteps almost automatic as he navigated the familiar path he crossed every day. The usual landmarks of the old town, now blurred by the misty rain, seemed to pass by in a hazy procession. He pulled his collar tighter, trying in vain to shield himself from the persistent drizzle.

As he walked, frustration and regret lingered in his voice as he recorded a voice message to a friend. "Why did it have to rain now?" he grumbled, his voice carrying the weariness of a man who had lingered longer than intended. "I really should have left at half time, fucking nothing happend anyway, as I predicted. It's like the heavens decided to cry just to mess with me tonight."

The reflections of storefronts distorted in the wet pavement, each step on the wet floor felt heavier than the last, and the ambient sounds of the city were muffled by the rhythmic drumming of raindrops on his hood. He sighed, his breath visible in the chilly night air.

"I have to be up for work in 6 hours. What was I thinking?" Ahmet's voice carried a mix of self-deprecation and resignation, his frustration evident.

Ahmet trudged through the misty market square of the old town, the lanterns casting light on the cobblestones beneath him. The normally bustling marketplace, now empty of life, had an eerie and almost haunting quality to it.

The lamplights flickered, creating dancing shadows that played tricks on Ahmet's weary eyes. The silence, punctuated only by the distant echoes of his footsteps, heightened the atmosphere. As he walked over the square, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had stepped into a scene from an old tale. The architecture of the surrounding buildings, adorned with centuries-old facades, loomed over the square.

The mist clung to the edges of the buildings, softening their contours and lending an almost mystical quality to the surroundings. Every now and then, the distant tolling of a church bell echoed through the damp air, adding to the haunting ambiance of the deserted market square.

As Ahmet quickened his pace, the unsettling feeling of being watched seemed to intensify. He couldn't help but cast furtive glances over his shoulder as he hurried through the spectral marketplace, eager to escape the unsettling place and dive into his warm bed.

As Ahmet walked through the mist-shrouded market square, his senses on edge, he approached a weathered statue of a german emperor, who he didn't recall.

His tired eyes played tricks on him as he passed the statue, he couldn't shake the feeling that he glimpsed a small, shadowy figure in the corner of his vision. A shiver coursed through him, and he halted momentarily, squinting into the mist, trying to discern whether it was a mere illusion born of weariness.

The statue, frozen in its stoic pose, bears no answers. Ahmet's imagination ran wild, and for a fleeting moment, he was convinced he saw the silhouette of a child-like form.

His heart quickened, and a chill crawled up his spine as he strained to make sense of what he saw. Was it a trick of the mist, a manifestation of his tired mind, or was there something truly mysterious lingering in the otherworldly haze? Ahmet hesitated, torn between rational dismissal and an instinctive sense of disquiet.

With a final glance over his shoulder, Ahmet resumed his hurried pace, leaving the statue and its misty companion behind. The small figure, whether real or imagined, seemed to vanish as he distanced himself from the center of the square. Yet, the unsettling feeling lingered, and the memory of that elusive presence clung to him as he navigated open space, yearning for the reassuring glow of his apartment and the warmth of familiar surroundings.

Looking for distraction, Ahmet fumbled for his phone. He pressed play on a voice message from his friend, and the familiar voice erupted from his phone, filled with passion and frustration over the latest soccer match of the local club.