January 5, 2001 - 7:55 P.M.

Night falls slowly on the city, accompanied by a gentle rain splashing quietly on the already moist pavement. There is a chill in the air, not uncommon this time of year, but yet, something does not seem quite right on the lonely street, as if something waits nearby.

She shrugs off the strange feeling of uncertainty and mumbles “lousy weather.” The mist from her breath curls slowly out of her lips, swirling, then fading into the cool night air.

“Jesus, Sarah why didn’t you take a cab? It’s fucking freezing.” She pulls the collar of her knee length wool coat up over her neck, and pulls her knit cap down over her ears, the gentle sound of raindrops distorting into a nearly imperceptible hush. As she rounds the corner to the street her apartment is on, fourth street, the rain begins to fall harder, now pounding the pavement, rising from the quiet hush to a rhythmic pounding.

“Shit, this is just bloody typical, the one time my car is in the shop and…” she prepares to finish her sentence, looking up for the first time in blocks, realizing she has walked the entire way by memory. Glancing back down the street, “…and…I get stuck…in the…” realizing what she sees standing in the middle of the street she turns quickly, pivoting on one foot, nearly losing her balance. Through the gray blur of the rain, washing with the sickly yellow of the street lights, she can make out the figure of a young boy, barely four feet tall, standing, in the center of the street. Without thought Sarah looks down the street to assure herself that no cars are coming, ignoring the fact that this is the main artery of traffic through the small town, yet it is completely deserted.

“Hey,” She calls gently her voice changing in pitch to the same tone she would beckon a puppy in a pet store.

“What’s your name?” She walks slowly towards the boy, looking for a parent to chide for leaving their child unattended on a busy street in the middle of a storm.

“Hey what are ya doin out here? You’re gunna catch cold” As Sarah comes closer she notices the boy is weeping softly, his tears hidden by the rain that is now pouring off his soaked black hair and cascading down his sullen face. Coinciding with this realization is the growing feeling that something is terribly wrong. Thinking the boy maybe in danger, she begins running towards him, the rain lashing her face as if trying to keep her from him. When she reaches within ten yards of the little boy she slows, walking towards him slowly, fearing she would scare him. Feeling her presence, the little boy lifts his head slowly, and raises his eyes to hers. Inexplicable fear washes over Sarah’s chest, brushing past her heart into her stomach. Facing her now, only feet away, the boy looks up, shivering from the cold, his damp clothes hanging from him like used rags that are older then he is.

In a slight, quiet voice that could be mistaken for a small girl’s if heard over a telephone he whispers, “I’m sorry.”

Sarah looks at the child confused, not sure what to make of the comment.

“I’m sorry” the little boy repeats this time with a force that takes Sarah entirely by surprise. “I didn’t know what I was doing!” the boy now shouting his voice ringing out with surprising clarity over the din of the storm. “I thought it was all a game!”

Sarah now terrified by the screaming boy begins to step backwards slowly, not sure of what was happening.

“Please, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again I promise.” The boys voice shifts a second time, this time into a remorseful sob.

Sarah begins to take a step forward, when she notices the slight smile creeping across the boys face, his hands clasped tightly together, shaking. Sarah continues backing away slowly, watching the boy, afraid to turn her back on him.

The boy realizes his mistake and drops the façade, “come here girl,” the boys voice suddenly drops to a low boom. Sarah shudders at the sound of the demented voice and turns to run.

As soon as she pulls her gaze away from the boy’s toxic eyes, she is blinded by the flash of headlights, and stunned by the blaring of a car horn. The sound of squealing tires fills the night air. Blackness swells in Sarah’s already blurred vision, she can think of nothing but the boy’s sadistic eyes. Drifting from consciousness she peers in the direction the boy was standing only to see a large black feather resting in a deep red pool of blood, spreading slowly, in the ever intensifying rain.