Escaping the dark, in search of a soul.

By Zen Blade.

Part One:

The beginning

In the depths of the night, a shadow stirred in the dark. Believing itself to being man, the shadow walked the streets and crossed the populous, in search of its soul. Arriving at a bus station, the shadowy fiend is convinced that if it finds its soul, it will never again have to endure the dark haven that is the night, and have access to all the benefits the sunshine can procure.

The bus is old and the driver blighted with the wrinkles of a timeless life; ancient and sad eyes: ignorant to its passengers and cargo. The shadow took a seat, inhabited by a young child and her oblivious mother. The child was playing on the floor of the vehicle, with a top made out of wood.

Nostalgia over came over the shadow, but it was not the same as one a human would have.

This shadowy fiend from the depth of the darkest unknown, had a sense of hatred, a gut-clenching hatred for its past, and yearned, with all it could call a heart, to have the innocent soul that the child with the wooden top playing on the floor of a bus, have. At least, if not, for one short moment of its time.

Once the bus had seen its fill of passengers for the time, it lurched forward, with a jerk and wail, it set off to find more people to devour on its journey to the heart of the metropolis nearby.

Patient was the shadow from the darkest unknown. It had waited an eternity, and could continue to do so: the hunt for its soul. It was worth all the time in the universe, and beyond its reaches.

As the bus continued on, the moon , hidden behind layers of cloud and atmosphere, never seemed to emerge: as if the darkness controlling the heavens had imprisoned the jewel and beacon of the night's only friend.

Time passed by, and the old rickety bus, operated by the old man with the ancient eyes finally screeched to a halt. One by one, the passengers found refuge from the ancient beast of a vehicle, to safe grounds on the sidewalk, and from there, to their unknown destinations.

The shadow , like an old nightmare brought to life, with its inky and cloudy tentacles of darkness, reached out touches the youth with the wooden top as she exits the bus, in an attempt to steal her soul. The child looked up at the shadow without fear. Full of hope, she said, "Be still, and never look back. " and with that, and no hesitation, presented her little wooden top to it, and deposited it in the shadows hands. Dumbfounded, it watched as she ran after her mother and continued on her little life toward the big city, where she probably started it there, and will probably end it there, years after her little life is spent.

Groaning with agony, the old bus lurched forward, and the shadow stayed seated upon the old leather seats of the old rickety bus, unable to move, and pondered the even that had just occurred. Ever so slowly, the bus headed toward its next destination. The shadow looked down at the top, just a little wooden top with scratches on it, and twirled it around its fingers. Odd. The shadow didn't remember itself ever having fingers. With great horror, that sent chills down its spine, it looked up and found that it had arms and a chest, and a spine for the chills to go down! What had this child done to it.

The shadow jumped out of its seat, hot sweat running down its new found brow, and tried to get the attention of the bus driver with the ancient eyes to stop. The shadow grabbed on the the pole that was next to the bus driver and clasped the old man by the shoulder, only to grab a handful of dust that seamed to vaporize out of nowhere. The bus driver seemed to turn into a swirling cloud of dust , cloths and all, on to the old leather seats of the groaning machine.

The bus itself was at a complete stop now, seaming to its own accord, and the bus doors swung wide open. The shadow stepped out side of the bus and found itself standing at a bus stop in the heart of the metropolis it had been searching for.

The oddity of the situation had left the shadow in a very confused state. as it stumbled down the streets, away from the old bus that now appeared to be merging with the pavement below its old rubber tires.

After a time, the cold shadow from the darkness of night stopped in the middle of the street, stood on one of the yellow cabs that were stuck in an endless stream of traffic and opened its mouth.

"I have no soul!" screamed the shadow to the masses that passed by. " I shall find it amongst one of you, the darkness shall bond with humanity!"

Marching down the street, with newfound confidence, the shadow, that came from nothing, now ran the sidewalks, shoving and pushing any bystander in its way. The masses didn't seem to care much from the shoving, gave way easily like it was a common task, and simply floated away from the shadow with a single push. Disturbed by the nature of humanity, it kept running: from this block to that block, running upstairs, and jumping off rooftops, only to land back on the sidewalks below.

It smelled for a soul, a perfect soul: the soul that will make the dark shadow whole, complete, and undeniably human. It tasted the air, and felt the floor. Pressed an ear against a bystanders chest and listened to that persons beat of heart.

The shadow did this for hours: looking, feeling, listening, tasting, smelling. All for naught. All in vain. There was no unique soul here, amongst these people. These drones of this metropolitan society. They were all the same. They had the same soul, they had the same path. They probably dreamed the same dream and ate the same foods every daybreak and nightfall. Until death and darkness take them all .

There was no soul for the shadow, not from no one here. There was no soul for the taking, for it would all be the same.

As the shadow, black as night, and mysterious as an ocean fog, continued down its lonely path, it came across a building with a mirrored window, lit by the street lamp with a dim and dying light. For the first time since the fog left its hiding place from the depths of the night, it finally got a good look at what exactly it looked like. A black, swirling mass of darkness consumed what seemed to be a head. The rest of its body was common. Common as the yellow cabs that infested the streets.

It wore a black suit, with a white long sleeved shirt, and a red tie. A striped red tie, like that a business man would usually wear on Wednesdays.

"I look like...a man." said the shadow. "But...I have no soul".

Knowing that the common look had appealed to "him", he had a sudden urge to jump on a moving yellow cab and sat on the roof, his crimson tie, dark as blood, striped like a beast, flapped in the breeze. His swirling mass of shadow where its head should rightfully be if he were a real man, slowly turned into flowing black locks of hair, set on tanned skin and a five-o-clock shadow of a mans face. Only his eyes were completely black, even the whites of where his eyes should be: there was only shadow there...

Aware of the darkness still flowing deep within itself, the man that was shadow traveled the monotone streets of the giant metropolis, atop the yellow cab, sure that the soul he looked for lay somewhere in this realm of humans with robotic verboseness. That somewhere amongst the madness of monotone, lay ripples of hope to bring his soul, and rid him of the darkness. The same darkness that flowed through his eyes, and permeated the atmosphere with its hate for itself.