"Music slithers through the streets at night, like some beast prowling for any unlucky soul that dares to indulge in its song. To follow its commands as it sings, "come here, come here," in the way of tittering flutes that mimic the ways of sirens. But our parents can not hear this. Not even when it becomes so loud it's hard to ignore the beckoning. When your feet start moving and your head gets foggy. Every kid knows not to watch the sunset. Not to walk home alone. Not to leave the house. Not till someone is taken. Because someone is always taken."