A cold wind cuts through the night in a dimly lit town's barren streets. Poorly hung Christmas lights sway in the bellows and cheap plastic decorations lie abandoned in the snow having been dashed aside by the unrelenting gale.
In the distance soft sounds of Carols being sung emanates from a small chapel on the hill. Families gathered together in warmth to push back the encroaching darkness and bitter cold of the season. Their voices raised in holy unison they roar in defiance of the building storm.
One man walks alone through the barren streets and the blistering cold. Draped in a long black coat and a scarf it does little to hold off the icy assault stinging his skin and blinding his vision. He knows where he is going regardless. This town is familiar to him. He knows its streets and alleys like the veins in his skin.
As he paced further towards his goal he began to see memories of times long past. Friends on a street corner, old store hands at the doors of local stores, the same two elderly gentlemen that would be at the same table at the same coffee shop with the same order every day. Two Americanos double shot extra strong. A bitter taste came to his lips just thinking about it.
It had been a long time since he had coffee. Since he had anything for that matter. Hunger just didn't come to him like it once did. Much had changed since he last walked these streets and felt the bitter cold of its winters. The town hadn’t changed one bit since the years he called it home. It had managed to stay ignorant of the world changing around it and that was ok. He needed something ordinary.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
The small chapel's doors flung open and from it flooded forth cries of jubilation and celebration. People hugged each other and children played in the snow. Their laughter and shouts carried through the harsh brick of the town's streets and drowned out the roar of the winds. He couldn't recall how long it had been since he had seen children. Their innocence was a foreign concept to him now.
He parted the crowd as he went. Searching for who he had come here for. He had done this hundreds of times. A hunter stalking its prey edging ever closer to its prize. The idle chatter of the crowd sank into him. Plans of dinner parties and celebrations flooded his mind as the posturing members of the crowd boasted about having the best turkey or the biggest tree. He missed the taste of a warm Christmas lunch.
His eyes narrowed as he spotted his charge. A broad shouldered and stocky man taller than most in the congregation. His dark skin contrasted against the white flakes falling upon his black uniform. His finely ironed shirt was adorned with several metallic trinkets on the shoulders and chest. A mark of his station that glistened in the night. He quickly put on a large jacket to shelter himself from the elements.
He approached the man slowly so as to not be heard. Memories flooded back to him of so many times that he had done this before. It could be over in a second. One swift movement and it could be done and he could be gone as before. No. He fought back these thoughts declaring himself the master of his own mind. This mark was different. Not the helpless shrivelled husks he had been sent to before.
The crunch of the snow underfoot betrayed him. The target turned around and faced him and made a reach for his hip instinctively. This grip slowly loosened and his expression softened as he saw the man before him. With a gentle hand he pulled away the man's scarf to reveal his face.
“I thought I lost you.”