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The town was dead and silent, the smell of the sea hanging thickly in the morning air. There was nary a cloud in the sky, displaying the full brilliance of the heavens God had wrought. This was a perfect night. A night where spent lovers might whisper sweet nothings into each other's ears. A night so perfect that even the slightest change in the air might somehow defile it, as a chilling north wind might defile the petals of a rose.
On the silent street he seemingly materialized from the ether of the darkness, stepping from the perpetual nothingness of the shadows. He was tall by even tall standards, towering nearly seven feet above the ground. And yet there was something gentle about his demeanor and posture. He seemed relaxed, and uncaring, his hands jammed deep into the pockets of a dusty black coat. But one look at his face would cause even the mightiest of angels to tremble in fear. He was handsome enough, but it was his grin, his sinister grin. It was the grin of a cruel child before he pulls the wings off of a fly. And above his grin were his eyes, sweet baby blue. With a glance he could take any woman to bed, but dare you gaze into them for more than a moment? Nay, for it would ruin your soul.
He moved as a dancer might; graceful, lovely. But as he stepped, the force that he brought stepped with him, and terrible fog seemed to slowly billow up around him, a thick miasma that would suck the soul from any normal man. But this walking shadow was no man, was he? No, this was the fabled boogeyman. The thing nightmares are made of. Hell and death followed him. He turned a longing stare over his shoulder, surveying the building storm. Soon the streets would run red with blood. Soon all sorts of pain and death would befall this perfect night. He finished his even stroll through the town, vanishing on the wind of distant screams of agony.
