As I sat wondering where I would spend the rest of the night, I heard music coming from a nearby street. I squinted up at the soft snow drifting gently down from the ominous dark clouds, got up wearily and trudged out of the dark alley in which I had hoped to find refuge in. The soft melodious music was coming from a lone church emitting warm candlelight at the end of the otherwise dark concrete, cobbled street. As the music reached a crescendo of awe-inspiring brilliance, I felt a sudden surge of hope and started forward. The sky began to brighten, dawn was approaching.
Then, I stopped in my tracks and looked down at myself. I was dressed in a ragged coat and had slept in it on the streets for the last two weeks. I was a werewolf and an outcast. Why on earth would they take me in? Discouraged, I sat back down on a nearby bench, bitterly hating my miserable existence.
That very moment, the sun rose from behind the church, streaming mist and golden rays of sunlight. The dark, bleak sky was set on fire, transformed into a blazing array of magnificent oranges, auburns, blues, cobalts and prussians. The wood-panelled church doors were wide open, beckoning me in. Driven by a sudden breath-taking force utterly alien to me, I started forward again – toward that glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.