Step by step, I stroll the streets, the eerie silence of the night enveloping me in a shroud of darkness. The moon hides behind thick, impenetrable clouds, casting the city into monochromatic shades of black. Shadows, twisted and malevolent, stretch and coil upon the rooftops of the towering buildings, concealing the nefarious creatures that await their chance to strike.
Atop those spectral edifices, the creatures lurk, their eyes aglow with a sinister red. They watch, patient and vigilant, as the unsuspecting souls wander the forsaken streets below, oblivious to the impending horrors that hover above. These creatures, neither ghost nor man, have one purpose — to claim their prey, their teeth sharp as razors and their claws like daggers.
The air is thick with a cold, damp foulness that chills to the bone. An eerie howl echoes through the night, sending shivers down my spine. I clutch my coat tightly, the very fabric of my existence, a feeble shield against the malevolence that lingers in the darkness. My breath forms clouds in the frigid air, visible proof of my dread.
As I press on through the labyrinthine alleys and deserted streets, the world around me becomes a macabre painting, a nightmarish masterpiece. Then, a sudden revelation seizes the creatures above. They see me, just as I see them. Their sinister red eyes widen with realization, their fates sealed.
For they are not the hunters tonight. No, it is I who hungers, I who feeds upon the malevolent. In a heart-pounding twist, the roles reverse, and I become the harbinger of justice, the protector of the innocent. With newfound purpose, I confront the shadows that once stalked me, their howls now desperate cries for mercy.
I am the hunter, and they are my prey. And as I move through the haunted streets, the balance between light and dark teeters on a precipice, and the city holds its breath, awaiting the final stroke of my vengeance.
~ A short story adapted from my poem, “The Unforeseen” (by Sheila Renee Parker).
