The streetlamps shone through breaks in the thinning branches of low hanging trees lighting what was left of each leaf with an ominous orange glow. Still, there was no fear.

The distant whistling seemed out of place in the night air as light shuffling sounds of sneakers on pavement interrupted the wind-carried tune. This was the beginning of our end.

Things are different in the dark. What life the city gave us it also took away leaving all those who walk her streets under starless skies to wonder where the sun shines now. He walked ahead of me passing beneath the manmade comforts of a town and I watched as the mercury light blanketed his outline with soft light then fell away again leaving the world before me empty once more: Like a ghost fading in and out of reality.

In the distance, the whistling continued--calling for the lost children we all are and threatening our grasp on what's real.

He stopped.

"We can't turn back, can we?" he asked, invisible against the future.

Without words, the answer was clear. "There's no going back when you don't know where you're coming from."

The whistling in the distance was unperturbed and, following myself, I continued towards it--or away from it...the hollow song offered no clues.

Confused? Then bow your head in shame and click here for an explanation I'd rather not have to give.