Last night a man came out of my closet. He was freakishly tall, with long, lanky arms and ragged clothes. He sat in the darkest corner of my room and stared out the window, at the stars, fragments of a sun he would never get to know. He was a monster, a creature of the night. His existence was one damned to forever dwell in the shadows, frightening those who reside in the light. He sat there and watch as the sky faded from black to blue. I watched as a solemn tear crept down his cheek. It made me sad to my core. Who was it, that banished daemons to the shadows? Do those in the darkness still feel the primal urge to seek out the warmth of the sun? And could a monster ever sit and watch the sunrise? As the morning’s rays found us, he was gone.

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