PROLOGUE
A sharp reddish light broke through the gray dusk sky as the sun touched the black earth. The surrounding meadows became puddles of shadows and the buildings protruding from the square plot of land at their center became featureless tombstones. It wasn�t dead. Oh, no, on the contrary, it was quite alive, but tucked inside, away from the cold and the coming night, and who only knew what more.
It was a painting of the sunset, staring straight down the town's prominent road. On the left and right were large black shapes of buildings and smoke stacks. Ahead was the curved coal-like horizon, a stark contrast from the blinding red in the distance, and right in the center, walking slowly forward, was the shadow of a man in a fedora.
His pace was slow, comfortable and even. There was a rhythm to it, step by step- left, right, left, right- you could sway to it and tap your foot along with his. This was his first time coming here, the next stop on his perpetual trek. He would stay only a night, and move on, and all the while, the unsuspecting small town citizens would never know his name.
Eventually, he entered the black gate- normally amiable and wooden, but now steel and jagged as a portcullis. With him, an undetectable wave of anomynous profoundness passed over the village. It felt like he had trespassed; Like he wasn't ever supposed to come here; Like somebody or something somewhere had been intending to keep him out. It was too late. The town had been infiltrated by the slow paced, tall, lanky man with the fedora... |
