There is Evil Within

They are not just thoughts

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It was a cloudless, cold and unfriendly night, the cars that at such a late hour still plied the streets on that chilly Saturday night, speeding down the road as if they had been downhill and with their brakes cut. Benjamin Morgan a young boy of Hispanic descent diluted by so many generations in the States, walked seemingly absent-mindedly through those serious streets of  Brighton as his footsteps, weighed down by fatigue, deafeningly pounded the sidewalk. Against the light, his silhouette blackened by the strong lights of the street lamps, was the only figure endowed with life that contrasted with the city background, he walked at an almost martial pace silently, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket, which he had certainly seen better days.Above him, the sky was a murky mixture of blue and yellow, marred by air and light pollution, dotted with rare stars that tried to shine brighter than the neon signs of closed premises and lamps that lit up a street that housed only a few rare passersby. Benjamin's mind, however, was far from the dreariness of the streets and colored lights and farther than the stars themselves, as many thoughts were churning in his mind that he almost did not recognize anymore, thoughts that intertwined between memories and uncertainties refracted themselves becoming an annoying inner dialogue.As he walked, he passed familiar places that had become barren in his eyes: a café that had also become accustomed to a dull routine, a graffiti-smeared alley that perhaps once should have been very beautiful, but like everything in this city, where no light beats, everything ends up wearing out. Ben was acutely aware that every step he took, he sank deeper and deeper into the thorny blanket of his thoughts, where the weight of his mind pulsed against him.A cool breeze tousled his dark hair, prompting him to tilt his head upward slightly.Lost in his thoughts, Benjamin stopped suddenly; he stood at a corner lit by the dim light of a flickering street lamp. He remained motionless, like a dog about to receive the stick in the hope that remaining still would result in the disappearance of the threat. Feigning nonchalance, he leaned against the rusted metal of a parking meter, and with his eyes scanning the deserted sidewalk in front of him he looked to his left. He widened his eyes for a moment, "Had I seen...?" For a moment, he thought he saw a figure disappear into the shadows-a flash of movement that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared."Am I getting paranoid?" he muttered to himself, shaking his head at his own disquiet. "I shouldn't walk alone at night. After drinking by the way."As if agreeing with his thoughts, which was rare during that period he took a deep breath, and trying to calm his nerves, he decided to pick up the pace more quickly.
From the depths of his mind, a thought surfaced that haunted him-a relentless voice that questioned his every step. "What am I running from?" was not a particularly long reflection since the answer came to him just as quickly "Ah yes, from myself," he reflected bitterly, closing his eyes briefly to block out the distant cacophony that had become his thoughts. The constant chatter of his subconscious had become overwhelming lately, a mental noise that made him feel constantly on edge, searching for something or someone.As he walked, Benjamin's gaze fell on a mural painted on the side of an old brick building: many figures overshadowed by a black light with gaping bowls and inhuman expressions devouring the fire emerging from the body of an unsuspecting third figure who remained impassive "ah though" he said to himself compassionately "nice representation of intrusive thoughts" 

"They are not just thoughts" replied a whispering voice from the darkness, a voice that seemed to crawl inside him.