He walks beneath the stars. Just Him and the darkness, the sky, the stars, the moon and the ground – a picture of solitude. Cinematic, poetic, depressing.
Flat-footed, He walks. Just walk. Not thinking about what happened a while ago. Not thinking about the future. He believes that every second used for thinking about the future is a wasted second. Future must trouble with itself, He adds.
He just walks. Left foot forward, then right, then left. He is like a tired private marching forward to the unknown, probably to his death, probably to an unseen terror. He seems oblivious; in fact, He doesn’t care anymore. Numb. Like a stone who walks in the middle of the night, who feels no cold, who feels no pain, who feels empty yet heavy.
He just walks. Not thinking that seconds later he will be dead…. Just like the dead stars he now sees across the velvet-crimson, silent-holy sky.
Now, where am I? Shit, I’m lost, he says to himself.
He moves forward. A minute have past. Left foot forward, then right, then left, like a death-row prisoner on his way to the electric chair. His walk, slow, calculated and in small strides. His head bowed down.
He saw bright lights. Halogen lights from afar. A car? A truck? A horse' whiny shiny eyes? Or perhaps, an alien spaceship from planet Neptune. Or maybe, by some surrealistic dream that came true, a pair of ogre's greedy eyes.
He moves towards the source of light like a firefly nearing a candle-light. He nears to his inevitable doom.
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerch! Boom!
