WHEN he smiled at me, I was quite charmed.  What’s not to be charmed by an attractive guy, just a bit taller than yourself, who actually looks good in glasses?  Maybe I should have mentioned that to Danni…. in any case, it doesn’t matter now.  I don’t think it ever did.  He was attractive, and nestled against him in the chill night air, feeling ever so slightly off-balance from my one beer (but no where near tipsy, the Irish in me turns out to be good for something) and definitely full of life, I couldn’t help but enjoy his presence.  Whatmore, he was amusing, and rather concerned, or at least gave a very good appearance of concernation.  He was interesting to say the least.

Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep.  If I should die before I wake…  

Why is there a child’s prayer running through my mind, even as I run down a slick and very dark alley?  A bit of water splashes up on my bare ankles as I run, trying desperately hard not to limp, as my right ankle, my bad ankle, is burning and crying out in sheer hatred with every step I take, each moment the full force of what most think of my slight weight coming down on it.  No ankle is meant to take that type of force, and the fact I’ve nearly broken that one three times doesn’t help it out at all.  I take the corner, slip, nearly fall, catch with myself with a gasp of air and lean against the brick wall, out of sight of the street, trying desperately to catch my breath quietly.  I can hear the creatures, the things, moving down the street, and they are not happy at all.  Snuffles and the powerful gusts of their breath comes down the alley way, them coming closer, but then a weave of fog passes me by, and for the moment, all is well again.  They have left, and I hear them moving further down the street.  Thank you, I whisper silently—moments like those make me believe that there is, in fact, some time of God.

Sinking down on to the wet ground, heaving a sigh of relief, I close my eyes and can vaguely see his face again.  He was such a nice person, really, was Lucian, and I wish I could remember the colour of his eyes.  It was a nice thought, of a possibly normal life, of maybe dating him at some point, even though it really was little more than a dream.  Dreams keep me sane, what with living in this nightmare.

With that, I carefully made my way along, hoping only for a little more time, hoping those monsters were farther away than I thought.