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CHAPTER THREE bags of bones
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The usual bustle of the city echoed loudly through the streets at eight pm. People were still out with their friends and family. Some were alone, on their way to one place or another. It was nearly the same at nine, maybe a little less busy. They were slowly realizing how late it would be. It was smaller groups now, stumbling among one another as they walked and laughed. Then, it was eleven. The number of straying people lessened. There was a scattered person here and there, but they walked quickly to get inside. Their eyes glanced behind them every couple of steps. The paranoia that came with the darkness was crawling over them. One am came quickly after that. The streets were almost completely devoid of life. The only thing populating them now were the dumb, unsupervised drunks and stray animals.
