Luke gulped. He shuffled further through the seemingly endless alleyway, pulling his cloak hood over his head as he did so.
The fog was becoming thicker. Had Luke's intention to stop the spectre not been so strong, he would have turned back by now. The police's efforts had resulted fruitlessly. The young boy felt as if he was the only one willing to step in their place and fight against the monster... Even if it ment sneaking out at the dead on night to face it.
He emerged into the main street, illuminated by the glow of the street lights. He stopped dead in his tracks.
Drip. Drip.
A shadow of something big enough to crush the young boy began to arise - the spectre, perhaps? Luke tried to get through the fog but it had grown awfully thick, masking the beast. It was also masking any of it's sounds, he suspected, for something so large could hardly be as quiet as the streets were then.
Drip. Drip.
The dripping wouldn't stop, and it echoed like the keys on a piano - slowly, creepily.
Drip. Drip.
He should have gone home like a good little boy, wouldn't you say?
Drip. Drip.
His dad had told him to leave it to the adults, had he not?
Drip.
...
The boy rolled over. His eyes - they opened, for a split second, and focused downward at the bed beneath him. Grey, furry, rather plump but charmingly characteristic. Hm, yes. With circular eyes and a great...big...smile...
... Bedsheet?
Luke screamed.