As the man walked along the street, with steam and mist flowing out of the manholes and gutters, he thought of his work with his company that day, of all the people he had to contact the following morning. It grew quieter as he continued to ponder the new client's requests, wrapping his long, grey overcoat about himself and transferring his brown leather briefcase to his left hand. As he debated what measures to take, a piece of paper, caught in a slight breeze, caught his eye. He stopped and glanced at it, and suddenly realized how quiet it was. He was only a few blocks from the overpass and it was only around 10:00 or 10:30 at night but there was no sound and no signs of any habitation. The decrepit buildings on either side of the street seemed to lean in on him, cloaking him in their impermeable shadows. Many of the street lights were shot out or burned out, leaving the alleys in impenetrable darkness and undefined shadows ruled the streets.

Frowning, he continued along the street, quickening his pace and pulling his overcoat around himself even tighter, buttoning the collar against the chill that suddenly descended upon him. An inhuman shriek broke the brooding silence and the man paused but could not pinpoint the source. As he continued on, quickening his stride more, he caught a sickly orange glow on the left. He swung his head to face it, but it wasn't there. Then there came a thud and a rasping sound from behind him, and as he turned he just saw the fading glimmer of an unearthly glow. He again paused, and, doing a slow, full turn, he called out, "Is there anyone there?", and tried to calm his palpitating heart. There was only silence. He stayed standing there long enough to become rational again, listening and watching, a soft breeze pushing short, brown hair back from his soft brown eyes and a clean shaven face. Then he started out again, lips forced into a straight line, arguing in his mind with what was happening, trying to stay calm. His rational side abruptly lost the battle though as a wail came from behind him, and he took off running, dropping his brief case, and pumping his legs and arms.

The buttons on his overcoat broke, letting it fly open and flap as his eyes went wide in terror and he rushed down the street. Suddenly he was brutally repelled off a shimmering barrier that appeared before him. As he staggered back, a towering column of light shot up in front of him, exuding a terrible overpowering feeling of evil and radiating scorching heat. The light was many colors and one color, it contained sickly greens and furious oranges, brilliant yellows and frozen blues, and a myriad of other colors, both seperate, and at the same time as one. The column started to morph into a thing. As he shielded his eyes from the glare, he stood transfixed and watched as first, a giant, hazy shape formed on top, with only the burning eyes defined; and the eyes where focused on him with an overt, malicious intent. Even as the thing changed more, the man turned, and, screaming, started to run from the phantasm behind him. He only got a short distance before he heard a deep, reverberating rumble from behind and a measured pounding as of huge paws running towards him. The man ran faster, fleeing what he knew would be certain death, or worse. Then he saw it. Up ahead, on the right side of the street, a lone street light, still lit, right next to an alley, giving off a holy white radiance. He headed for it, actually allowing the thing behind him to gain on him some more. At the last moment, he punched his left leg out and threw himself into the alley. The phantasm was too close. As he went right, the unholy creature reached out and raked his back with its diseased, unnatural claws. His back felt like it was on fire, but were the long, wicked talons had breached his skin, it felt cold and numb. As he bounced off the alleys wall from his momentum and the impact of the beasts paw, he looked down the alley, and, through a haze of pain, the man saw light. He scrabbled up and deliriously rushed towards it. As he burst out of the alley and into the lights of our world, collapsing as sound filled his ears, he heard a final roar that almost sounded like a warning.

The man was later found by a passing cab driver, the crumpled and beaten form, laying upon the side walk catching the cabbies eye. The para-medics that came in the ambulance were confounded by the long, blacked, swollen tears in his back. When the doctors treated the strange wounds and the burns on his face, hands, and arms, the medicine had very little effect, only serving to close up the wounds, and the burns faded to a dull ache, scarring his face for eternity. They finally sent him home after he emerged from a comma, calling it a health disorder and writing it down in a voluminous tomb of unsolved cases, and promptly forgot him.

For the rest of his life, the man dreamed of the thing every night. It haunted his life in the form of shadows and dark places. It haunted him in the scars on his back and with the dull ache of the burns that, outwardly had healed, but were still there and festering on the inside. He knew it was out there. And it was waiting to finish what it had started...