Last Night He Saw Two Dark

Last night, beneath a sky smudged with clouds and the faint glow of distant streetlights, he saw them—two dark figures standing motionless at the edge of the park. They were not tall, nor short; their shapes blurred as if drawn in charcoal and left to smudge in the damp air.

He paused, unsure whether to approach or retreat. The silence between them felt heavier than the night itself. No wind stirred the trees. Even the usual hum of the city seemed to hold its breath.

Then, as suddenly as they appeared, they turned—slowly, in unison—and walked away, dissolving into the alleyway where light refused to reach. He never saw their faces. He never heard a sound. But something about their presence lingered long after they vanished.

Was it real? A trick of the tired mind? Or a glimpse into something older than the streets he walked every day?