Late one fall evening, two boys were watching the stars up high
A stranger appeared out of the mist of the field, and approached slowly
Passing us by on his way, we knew him not; suspicion in us rose.
We followed him close, but not too close
Tall he was, wearing a cloak of black with a hood as large as myself
We knew the path’s dead end was close up ahead
He disappeared, then reappeared in the mist
Finally cornered, he turned around
Frozen, terrified, I looked ahead, not old enough to understand
The eyes I saw were not of human kind
He looked away; my legs were paralyzed with fright
Then, the sound of an animal was heard from behind
Impossible! He was gone. We’d only flinched for half a second
We stood there alone, deep in the dark woods
A cold sentience of dread and timorousness grew
My consciousness had foretold the augury of loss
My mother: Dead
My father: Dead
My best friend: Dead
He never spoke.