In the darkness

There's the sharp breath of the wind

Stinging his rosy cheeks,

The whisper of a quiet night

Causing goosebumps on his arms.

The road is empty, calm. Lifeless.

So is his soul.

He walks straight in front of him,

His chin held high

The chilly air caressing his neck.

He doesn't try to warm himself,

Doesn't rub his arms.

He doesn't mind the snow soaking his hair,

Doesn't mind the creepiness of the streets around him,

The silent shadows following him in the darkness.

He doesn't mind. He's one with the night.

The rare passerby

would notice the tiny figure wandering in the night.

The rare passerby would start at the little boy,

A shadow among the other shadows.

The rare passerby would hesitate in his direction,

Walk towards the lonely figure

But the rare passerby would also think better,

Stop himself and hurry away,

Not wanting any trouble,

He would dart on the opposite side and quicken his pace.

The little boy would watch from the shadows,

Always in the shadows.

He would stop in his track, and let his head fall against his chest.

He would let himself feel the bitterness of the air,

For only one moment, one endless moment.

Then he would clench his small, too small fists

Turn on his heels and continue his walk.

No one knows who he is,

Why or when he began to wander in this silent, dead city.

No one bothers to ask him,

no one really knows if he even exists.

People would just tell his story,

A little boy wandering in the shadows,

The shoulders low, the chin held high.

They would talk about the way his dark,

Dark hair would catch the white snowflakes,

How his fair skin would seem to glow in the night,

How his quiet footsteps wouldn't leave marks on the thin layer

Of snow.

They would talk about the way he carried himself,

Like a dark, forgotten knight

Cursed by the world to live in the night,

Like a wise, old man

Instead of a naive, young boy.

People would spread rumours,

Rumours would be heard,

And at some point,

Rumours would become stories,

Stories would become legends.

The years will pass by,

The legends will be neglected,

The story will be forgotten.

But in the night,

The little boy will remain,

A shadow among the other shadows,

With only the moon and the stars above

To guide him in his never ending night.