Barely Alive by pinkdoom
Summary: He walks alone, the streets empty and dark. He finds no comfort in daylight, the hustle and bustle of the lives of those who live under the sun. He feels alone, but he really is not. *A short, contemplative fic I wrote almost 6 years ago, when I was 16. Feel free to say what you like...I just thought I'd throw this piece out there!*
Categories: Short Stories Characters: None
Genres: Drama
Warnings: None
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 1203 Read: 825 Published: 06/09/2006 Updated: 06/11/2006

1. Barely Alive by pinkdoom

Barely Alive by pinkdoom
His black duster swirled around him in the wind, barely seen in the darkness. His step was silent, perfected from night after night of midnight walks, his stealth maneuvers during the witching hours. At first, he felt like an intruder, breaking the still of the night as he followed in his soul's shadow down the empty streets. But he couldn't comprehend why he, slave to the night, would feel like an intruder in his own world. It was the fear. It was always there, ticking away in the back of his mind; that the people in the houses along the street, with their empty, gaping windows and bolted doors, would rush out upon sensing his presence and badger him, staring with uncaring eyes and asking why he walked the lonely moonlit streets. And to this he would have no answer. They wouldn't understand that the night was part of him, that he couldn't stand day's piercing rays of sunlight. Those normal, happy people who lived in their self-made prison of sunlight were denying themselves the truth. That was why they hid from the night. Human nature was truly a world of created daylight happiness and the hidden angst and sadness revealed at night.

During the day, anyone can put on a fake smile, laugh, and act as if their world was perfect, but they're actually falling apart inside. Emotions burning, boiling, bubbling over; crashing, spinning, twisting, turning; the anger and anxiety that beats so hard against your chest, lungs on fire, heart ready to explode, casting everything aside to only focus on the pain, and falling into that abyss of hopelessness. He knew this to be true--he used to be that way. But if they were to step outside their safe houses for just a few minutes, they would discover that the night is one with their secret feelings, their untriggered anger, scorn, and sometimes cavalier attitude toward the world around them. The night was a tease. It taunted them, demanding all those who repressed their problems, their feelings, to release them underneath a starry sky. The night would not tell their secrets, and would take away their pain. They had only to confess to the darkness. And that was what scared people. The night, not themselves, would be in total control of them, and if people lost control of themselves, they would be lost. Wandering souls with no purpose. But they didn't know how free he truly was.

Sunlight. Shadow. Light. Dark. Good. Evil. Right. Wrong. The ultimate battle between two worlds, with no definite lines drawn.

The dim light from a nearby lamppost flickered and he looked up, faltering in his step. The light made his eyes appear hollow, yet the chill that emanated from those ice blue eyes was enough to freeze the devil's heart. He was unbreakable, unbendable to most things, but he had to be to start his day at twilight and end when dawn broke. Each step was pointless, his walk aimless, his being of absolutely no importance to others around him. But to him, anything he did at night was important. It was the only thing he knew, the only comfort zone he had. The night was the only truth to him. People had tried before to reform him, make him a daywalker, someone who reveled in the sunshine. They did this because normal people are afraid of what they don't know about or understand, and he knew their reform attempts were cries for help. Deep within, every single one of them called out to the darkness. Their lost souls were brimming with their fears, and insufficiencies, their angst and sadness; their lost dreams and hopeless causes sought redemption. The night could give that redemption they sought from their bright sunlight and false pretenses of happiness. He knew that it was possible to salvage a person's soul and reform them. He knew this as much as he knew when his cigarette burned out each night, so would his love for the dark, for the evil that shone in the moonlight, and for the lampposts scattered along the street, barely noticeable, barely alive. He knew and had long accepted the fact that the point of his existence was to walk in the cool evening air, to be a part of the darkness that surrounded his entire being.

If only others would realize that the night was all-encompassing and would accept anyone who wanted to know the truth.

Sunlight. Shadow. Light. Dark. Good. Evil. Right. Wrong. Truth. Lies. Everyone has to draw their own line.

He passed under the last lamppost on the lonely, quiet street, his mind churning. But through the chaos in his head, he heard what sounded like footsteps coming toward him. Impossible, he told himself. He'd never seen a soul in the years he had walked this street. A young girl, gruesomely pale, materialized out of the shadows. He kept walking toward her, though shocked to see another being out, especially such a young girl. She didn't look any older than twelve or maybe thirteen. The girl stopped a few yards from him, just out of reach from the light, a quizzical look on her face. He stopped too, noticing that she opened and closed her mouth a few times as if she wanted to say something to him. God, how long had it been since he had spoken to another human being, a stranger? They stood there for a few minutes, on the edge of the lamplight, yet still hidden in the shadows. She took a deep breath and looked at him straight in the eye, something no one had dared to do in he didn't know how long. The neighborhood children told each other whispered tales of how he could freeze people in an instant with his arctic blue eyes, and the adults said the same.

"Are you alone?"

Her words rang in his ears. He reached deep within and forced himself to answer her. "Yes, I am. Why?"

"Just wondering." She paused and looked skyward when the lamppost flickered.

He knew why he was talking to her. She was like him, a creature of the night. She was even younger than he had been when he started wandering the streets, consoled in the comfort the night brought. He admired the courage she had to face the truth. The cool breeze rustled the fallen leaves on the sidewalk, and he smelled their decay on the air. He looked back to her, his mouth slightly upturned in what he thought was a smile. "Isn't the night absolutely glorious?"

She smiled back. At least she remembered how to do that. "Positively lovely." She began to walk again and so did he, but she slowed down as they passed each other. Her whisper was barely heard on the wind. "What the night reveals is always true. You're not alone."

Sunlight. Shadow. Light. Dark. Good. Evil. Right. Wrong. Truth. Lies. Sin. Redemption. He had drawn his line. Now he was just waiting for the others to do so.
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