Shriller

Whistling was the only sound audible, echoing throughout the crisp, dark night, bouncing off ancient buildings and chipped cobblestone pathways. The noise was shrill and disturbing, changing the atmosphere to a gloomy feel. The whistling suddenly stopped, followed by a heavy thump, recognizable by something falling lifelessly onto the ground. Early the next day, the mayor was found lying on the ground, no longer alive. Panic spread throughout the town, oozing fear into the hearts of the already scared civilians.
The only thing alive during the dead night was the dwindling stagecoaches, returning their masters to heir homes, and a cloaked figure. He was tall, but stocky, with a dusty black coat with long sleeves, obviously worn out. His face unrecognizable due to the shade produced by his tall black hat. He stood out like something that didn't belong, ostracized. The fog, of the already cold night, seemed to flee from the feet of the strange man. Lamps hanging from the buildings flicker