Please, Welcome.

    

If darkness could tear at the darkness... would it scream? Would it cry out in terror over what it has done? Would it realize the sound of rain hitting the pavement, the children's screams, and the winds roar were resting inside? Indulgence taking over, assume, soon, something serious, seemingly serene, setting scents, since I can't be bothered, will seem to sing songs of a superfluous nature, but assuredly they are not. Was it so wrong to dream of the perambulator? Was it so wrong to remove the batteries? He could have battled the darkness with his soul, but he chose ingenuity. When the clouds crept and crawled, the shadows seemed to sweep the streets from the sides. "Shadows? But it is cloudy!", you say. Indeed. But shadows create shadows. Sometimes... some people... shout. Why do they shout?

 

BE QUIET,  NOW.

 

Good, most delightful. I am glad to have made your acquaintance. And yours likewise my good sir! Shake hands and be on our way? Shake we shall!

 

BE QUIET,  NOW.

 

It's getting cold... I don't get cold... the rains stayed steady. The streetlight, why is it flickering? Is it finally aware that without it I can't exist? Is it really so facetiously altruistic that it would flicker, even burn out? No.- No.- No. No.- The people are so far. I could knock on their door, and the door would be opened. But where are the people?

No matter, I have Ann Marie. Who could quite possibly be of want when waiting with, Ann Marie.

 

You, of all people, remember the way we danced.

Do you not? THEN SCREAM IT. LET ALL THE ABSENT PEOPLE KNOW OF HOW WE DANCED, AND OF HOW YOU WATCHED.

 

. . .

 

Oh Ann Marie! Your dress is torn! You better go, stitch that up immediately.

 

I said go on now... be quiet.