Chapter One

          A man scurried hastily through an open courtyard, attempting to escape something he knew he couldn’t.

         The lamppost bulbs shone accusing lights upon him, as if they wanted to expose his wrongdoing to the natural world and upend his spotless legacy. He tried to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible, as not to alert the ghosts of justice that were surely searching for him. The icy wind rippled through his thinning hair. A shudder surged through his heavily clothed body.

         He wasn’t sure if it was the cold or the prospect of being caught.

         In less tense times, he would often stop and admire the beauty of this place. The white roads enwrapped circles around the beautiful viburnum trees and their snowball-like blossoms. The grass was routinely immaculate. The flower patches, the mosaics of vibrant colors that put him at ease, were always cultivated to perfection thanks to the overprotective gardener he would sometimes converse with.

         The memory he wanted to suppress erupted into his brain against his will.

         I always took him here.

         He shook his head violently. He wanted to destroy that recollection. He wanted to reach inside his head and rip it out with his bare hands. He imagined shaking his head so furiously that the image tumbled out and fluttered away like a butterfly with a broken wing.

         The empty courtyard felt haunted to him. No sane person would be out at this hour. The notion of the type of person that would be skulking through the park frightened him more than any wraith ever could. He was not a man of superstition. He understood at a young age the origin of the ghost and the reason for its existence in folklore. They were oft the centerpieces to a prolonged morality tale used to scare kids into following the rules. They were attempts to keep kids in line long enough for the adults to keep their sanity. And the adults were the ones-

         He stopped suddenly.

         The noise he heard, while not at all threatening, stopped him dead. He peeked over his right shoulder, looking past the gaudy overcoat he wore. The wind whistled at him in accordance, icing his already reddish nose.

         It had been a muted rustling, the kind often made by tiny animals scurrying through a bush to escape a larger threat. Their minute claws would scratch against the branches, mustering all their strength to escape and survive for another few minutes of an already terse existence.

         He remained silent and completely still for a few more moments, hoping to catch another whiff of that sound to better identify it. He heard nothing and continued, still keeping alert to any possible recurrences of the sound.

         It began to snow. Light flakes descended onto the floor, hitting the pavement and melting instantaneously. The wind would swirl them around, sending them through a turbulent current on the way to their ultimate end. He reached out with his palms. He, in some deranged way, wanted to cleanse them. He wanted to wash away the wrong he had committed again; a wrong he promised himself he would not.

         Was he born to do this to his loved ones? How could he inflict such damage upon others? What kind of monster was he?

         The worst kind, he thought to himself.

         He hadn’t been paying attention, but just ahead of him, a figure sat quietly on a now snow-dusted bench. The silhouette was hunched over slightly, head forward and staring into the night, perhaps another human searching for an answer he didn’t really want to grasp.

         Trying to remain calm despite his natural fear of strangers (one he developed as a lonely child,) he walked past the man in the seat. The man at first had no reaction. Then, he turned his head and spoke in a deep, thick voice: “Leonard.”

         Leonard flinched severely, as if he had just walked directly into an electric fence. He was nervous at first, but understood quickly that it had to be somebody he knew. He let his nerves die down for a moment, then turned to face the man who’d recognized him. He bent down slightly, peeking under the circular brim of the man’s faded black hat.

         “Do I know you?” he asked with a trace of irritation.

         “Of course you do.” The man stood up and revealed himself, removing the hat that had been pulled so far over his eyebrows. Leonard felt instant relief.

         “Oh, my, you startled me. I always get so nervous walking out here. They always tell you the town is one of the safest, but it only takes one person, you know?”

         “Oh, Leonard, I certainly sympathize. People see me as the most defenseless kind of person there is. They take one look at me and think I can be pushed over by a gentle breeze. It is a frustrating existence sometimes, to be sure.”

         Leonard was comforted by the man’s outward nature, but was still a bit nervous for a reason he couldn’t grasp. He had no reason to fear this man, none whatsoever, but the hopelessness in his voice was disconcerting.

         “Well, it was nice seeing you, but I must be going. Wife is probably nervous… and you should get going, too. It’s quite late.”

         “Well Leonard, there’s something I need to discuss. Sit with me for a moment? I can’t hold it in any longer.”

         Not wanting to be impolite, he shrugged inwardly and agreed. He took a gloved hand, wiped a bit off the snow off the weathered wood, and sit on the edge of a bench. He hoped the man would take this as a sign that he was in no mood to have a long conversation at one in the morning. Those conversations inevitably lasted until morning, and nothing good ever came from them. You would only explore the most disgusting and darkest parts of your psyche, the places you never wanted to willingly go.

         And it was place Leonard certainly did not want to go, especially on this night. He wanted to be home. He wanted to sleep. Most of all, he wanted to forget. Nothing could cure heartache like forgetting you ever had it.

         The man replaced his hat and sat back down. He spent a moment or two readjusting his hat, pulling it firmly below his hairline and settling just above his bluish-gray eyes. He took a deep breath, as if he were about to tell Leonard something devastating.

         Leonard was now beyond annoyed. He was busy fighting his own demons, struggling to quash his own personal rebellion, and now he had to help somebody deal with theirs. How selfish are people to request his attention when he’s barely giving it to himself?

         “I don’t quite know how to say this to you. I feel as if the words will come out and stain the air of this beautiful night. There is a toxic inside me, and I need to cleanse it. Leonard, I need to get rid of these images in my head.” He stopped for a moment. He sounded as if he were choking up and about to cry. His voice trailed off a bit. He opened his mouth, but stopped with a short breath, a collected himself.

                He spoke again having reassured himself:

                “The only way they will leave is if I act upon them.”

                Leonard tilted his head a bit, but not enough to be noticeable. He could see a glint in the man’s eye. The man was obviously in deep regret of something he had done, a feeling Leonard could sympathize with.

                “I’m so sorry Leonard, but I need to do this.”

                Maybe the tear was not shed in regret… but of something he was about to do.

                “Leonard….” He paused, waiting for a vocal response.

                Intrigued and frightened, his heartbeat quickened to breakneck pace. What could this man have in his heart that disgusted him so much?

                The man put a hand on his shoulder.

                “I know, Leonard.”

                The man leaned a bit closer and turned his head, looking Leonard directly in the eye. He shook his head slowly and again he whispered, lower this time:

            “I know.”