Flickering

DISCLAIMER: ...you get the idea.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Nothing much, except boy, is this melodramatic. Enjoy the Anna-ness :D.

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It was that time of the night again, she mused, getting up blearily and putting on a warm jacket. The clock, in a perfect ninety degrees, announced the time by beeping incessantly until her fair slim fingers reached out to turn it off. She then made her way out from behind the collection of empty trash bins, walked out of the narrow alleyway, and stepped into the streets.

(Three o'clock.)

Turning her head slowly to the right, then revolving to check to her left, she was slightly relieved to see no one wandering in the empty streets.

(Silent and still.)

She then took a tentative step forward, checked the streets again, and then began to walk briskly through the streets. Lamps lead the way, shining and blinding to her eyes. But like the stars to a sailor, they led the way. She never really paid attention where she was going these nights. She just walked with her feet padding softly against the cold cement.

(The blinking light.)

It was quieter at night. The streets were empty, people were asleep and dreaming, not moving, not thinking. The night was peaceful, and it brought her solace with its quiet. No voices were there, because no people were there. Their hateful thoughts weren't there to mess up her silence. So she learned to love the night, and hate the light, oftentimes sleeping away the days. She only came out from behind the trashcans when it was night, when it was safe.

(Like a mouse, quiet and afraid.)

Further down the curving road, a lone lamppost glittered in the cold dark night. Her eyes fixated on the sight. The lamppost continued its desperate fight for survival, but no one paid any heed to it. No one was awake to save it. She felt almost sorry for it.

(A solitary figure.)

She wasn't looking, really. Her feet were moving, but her attention was engrossed in the dying lamp. She didn't see the person until their shoulders bumped harshly against each other, breaking her from her trance.

(A child, her age.)

His height surprised her. Actually, everything about him surprised her. They stood eye level to each other, staring unblinkingly. For the cold night, he wore a single mantle, which dragged onto the floor as the child (child?) walked. And his eyes. His eyes were fathomless and without any expression.

(Empty and cold.)

Then suddenly, his face broke into a smile, the edges of his mouth and eyes crinkling slightly. She was not impressed, however, since like his eyes, they did not reveal true mirth.

(Unreachable.)

"Excuse me," he said jovially. "I didn't know anyone would be walking this late at night."

(Untouchable.)

His smile was returned with a glare. "Children shouldn't walk around at night," she snapped.

A raised eyebrow.

"Couldn't the same be said for yourself?"

(A surge of emotions.)

She roughly passed him, walking away quickly, not looking back. It wasn't until she had passed by eleven lampposts did she realize that she couldn't read him. Her head was surprisingly clear.

(An empty heart.)

When she turned around, he was gone.

The lone lamp flickered dully throughout the night.

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