stars [phan]

one

"I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream."
-Vincent Van Gogh

Phil Lester was looking down at the ground.

It's strange how the ground was just a ground.  It would never be anything more than something to walk on.  Especially the cemented paths that cover the streets of London, half of which had cracked with overuse and weather.  Phil supposed that was what life was like.  You were just a person, destined to die.  People are just people and always would be.  Boring dickheads who stab you in the back periodically.  That was life to Phil.  Just something that comes and goes whether you like it or not.

New Year's Eve had just passed and it was now officially the first day of 2012. Phil had gone to the pub with his friends but left them when they started to get drunk.  The 22 year old was not keen on alcohol even though he loved how he could forget about everything for a while.  In a way, he only wanted to remember the future.  The future that terrified him but left him with so much hope. Maybe, just maybe, the future would be worth it.

He crossed the street into a less lit section of the block he was walking around, kicking loose stones and rocks as he went.  He smiles softly as one of them is thrown into the air a few centimeters, landing about four feet away from him.  He picks up his step and kicks it again, watching it go about the same distance.  It's kicked one more time but instead of it landing only a few feet away the stone is thrown onto the road.  Phil sighed.  A car would run over that stone.  Maybe it would get pushed around more but that stone was lost now.  Just like a human. 

Across the road, one of London's few parks was illuminated softly by the glow of yellow street lights, castings deep shadows over the path going from one side to the other. Deciding it was probably well lit enough for him not to be mugged, Phil crossed the stony street and stuck his hands in his pockets, glancing left and right to make sure he didn't get run over by some drunk lunatic. It was New Year's Eve, it wasn't a stretch.

The park provided a cold breeze on the clear night, making Phil put his hood up. His breaths formed in clouds in front of him as he walked, letting all his worries fly away with them. There was something about this world that he loved, even though it was cruel in so many ways. The outside calmed him more than being alone in his bedroom did, which probably meant he was more of an extrovert than an introvert. He honestly didn't care.

There was a part of the stripe of green that wasn't as well lit. It was almost like a clearing with nothing in it but a slightly worn area where countless feet had stepped. This was the place where families would picnic and dogs would play fetch. It looked friendlier in the day.

Looking around nervously, Phil quickened his pace. This part of the park was probably the safest because of the small amount of cover but it creeped him out. He began to walk faster when he heard a crack behind him (which was likely just the wind) and eventually broke in to a jog. It was like him to choose one of the biggest parks around to go on a midnight stroll through.

Somehow Phil found himself flat on his face.

His nose was pressed into a dirt patch and he wrinkled it. Classy, Phil.

"Shit, sorry dude."

So he didn't trip over nothing.  He pressed himself up on his knees and sat down, wiping the mud off his leg.  Phil looked around for the person who had spoken and found a dark shadow in front of him.  In the moonlight, he could see the features of his face and his hair which he supposed was brown but looked silver in the night.  As the stranger moved, the moon glinted off one of his eyes and Phil could see that they were also a brown colour.