prolog (the shadow)

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Rain hitting the window as a cars light's run across the wall. The diner door rings as a group of teens walk in for a late-night snack. As they enter one notices a dark hooded man sitting in the corner quite and not moving, almost seems like he was dead. The air grew cold as the man looked up. The mood in the room quickly dissipates from the light hearted feeling it once was. The dark person in the corner glances up at the teens that just walked into the dinner. The young waitress catches a glimpse of the man's eyes. They were dark as charcoal with silver flakes in them, it almost seemed as if they were still burning embers left in his eyes. Also so cold they seemed to pierce the soul. The waitress was frightened and dropped the glass she just poured for the teens that sat down at the counter in front of her. Fell from her hand to the floor shattering on impact, as the teens try to help clean up the broken glass. All the young waitress can do is look at the man in the corner and say to herself, "where did this man come from?" She was terrified of this man.
She cleaned up the remaining glass with a broom she found in the back room. The teens sit back onto their stools and waiting for someone to take their order. They begin to laugh and joke as they wait, lightening the mood. The chill remained in the air, as the manager walks out from the back never hearing the crash of the glass. Noticing that the teens hadn't been attended to, she starts to take their order. Helping the young waitress, as she cleans up. The manager never noticed the man in the corner. As she glances to take the order, she catches just a quick glimpse of the dark hood that covers his face. She feels  a shiver go up her spine and her hair stood on end. She thought he came from a video game convention. which was not strange here. There were always people dressing up, he wore a leather cloak, with a dark silver belt, and black buckle, almost appeared as if it had been burnt. The hood was covered in old Irish scrolling. The dark man stood up, as the room grew quiet, standing tall, tall enough to look directly at the lights that swung in the small diner and broad shoulders. He was a muscular man, filling out his cloak, he stood taller than all the people in the room. He starts to slowly walk to the counter, as the room stayed quit, and the chill grew ever so more intimidating. The man had long silver hair about the same as ashes from a forest fire that just had smoldered out. His skin was pale almost white. His eyes were very dark and deep as the caverns that drip with the sound of water, and not even bats would venture. Just a few of his steps to reach the counter, extended his hand, the air got thicker, like a heavy fog had just come up on the rooms atmosphere and colder as he stood there. The chill runs up everyone's spine, and they stop their jokes and laughter, the manager slowly takes the money from the man's hand, his hands were cold to the touch. She opens the drawer, and extracts the man's change. By that time the man had turned and was headed toward the street. The manager said "sir, your change?!" He motions for her to keep it, speaking in a soft tone he says "keep it, for the glass your waitress broke." He  slowly picks up a flower off the table next to the door, sticks it to his nose and as he sniffs the flower quickly turns to ash. He then smirks as he turns to push the door open.  As the door swings open and the bell rings, he steps out onto the street. The rain hits his hood and rolls off. Then he stepped forward and disappeared as the wind blows revealing a small bit of ash floating away. No one knew where he came from, nor did they know where he went. Many wanted to know who he was?

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