It was a dark night in London. The fog surrounded him like a curtain. He was glad of this as it shaded him from
prying eyes. He avoided the gas street lamps and made himself one with the darkness. He clutched the package to
his chest as he glanced nervously around him. They could not have it. He had promised to keep it safe. His
footsteps thudded duly along the cobblestone street. His heart was hammering so loudly that he wondered that it
could not be heard by his fellow sojourners in the darkness.
He looked desperately for the sign that would tell him where to go. He glanced behind him again and that is when he saw something moving through the fog. He whirled around, his eyes darting, but only the stillness and silence of the night greeted him. He released a sigh of utter relief and turned back towards his destination. A strangled scream escaped from his throat as he found himself staring into the piercing eyes of a figure clad in black. He took a step back and looked around, planning his escape, but when he turned to face the figure, it was gone. Scared and alone, he pulled the package closer. He knew how valuable the contents were, and he knew that they wanted it returned safely, and quickly.
He followed the outer wall of the building next to him until he located a small alley. He slowly backed into the alleyway, watching carefully for the figure he had seen. A crash sounded behind him. He spun around only to find a cat searching through a trash can that had been knocked over. He had started to relax when someone put a hand on his shoulder. His heart pounded louder than ever as he slowly turned around. The hand disappeared and the alley was as empty as before. He chided himself for being so scared and foolish as he trudged back onto the dark foggy streets. He noted the direction he needed to go and took one more look around. Nothing but the dim light from the street lamps and the howl of a dog far away.
He smiled to himself and continued in the direction his next sign should be. The fog slowly drifted away, leaving the streets clear and uncovered. The moon began to peek behind the clouds, casting eerie shadows across the sidewalk. He ignored them and began to hum silently. Laughter began to echo through the streets, causing more dogs to bark. Through the corner of his eye, he noticed a figure glide across the cobblestones. He stopped and his heart began pounding again. The small laughter seemed be getting closer and closer with every breath. He backed into the wall, hoping that he would stay safe. He looked around, desperate to locate the source of the laughter. He gathered his courage, and after a small hesitation, called out into the night, “Who's there?” The laughter stopped abruptly and the night was silent once more. Across the street, under a street lamp, a figure appeared. It slowly began to come closer.
He fumbled for his gun, and in his panic, forgot all about the precious package, and dropped it onto the stones. With his hands trembling, he raised the gun and pointed it at the figure. The figure got closer, close enough for him to look in its cold, dark eyes. Terror enveloped him and his entire body froze. He tried to pull the trigger or at least run, but his hands and feet would not obey. The figure stopped at the edge of the road as the clouds covered the moon and the fog returned to gently cover the streets of London. His eyes flitted about, but there was no sign of the figure. He sighed and lowered his gun. Suddenly, he remembered the reason he was out on these streets. He looked down. “Heaven help us all,” he whispered. The package was gone. A small, almost musical, laughter shattered the silence as he dropped to his knees with tears streaming down his face.