Whispers in the night, three amazing stories, each shocking, harsh, sexual, and sometimes horrific.
The night rises to a new moon. The air is thick with death and the agony of life, and the struggle for immortality. I step forward from the shadows, into the light, here in the Narrows I will linger, I wait.
As in the passing of a moment I am brought back to the present, to the darkness. I stand in the moonlight watching death pass. I am here, here in this place, this city that never sleeps. I am alive in thought, alive in being and yet, dead.
This is my history, my journey. I walk in the depths of darkness, I am the Goth that awaits the living, I am the shadow that passes in the darkness.
I hear a sound, a voice calling. I stop to hear the cry but no one answers. This is stillness, darkness, there is life but beyond. What might there be?
Voices, I hear many voices but no one is there, not really anyway, not really. I see reflections of the past but they aren't mine, I see the movement of life and death, moments but of whom and why was I brought here? Am I a seer, am I more than just a child?
I mourn my loss, the loss of my soul, the being that I once was. I am the murderer, the cause of the silence, the darkness and yet I cannot change what is before me, I cannot change what I must do, what is inside me, what calls to me in the darkness.
The figure of what was once a man, stands over the beaten and broken body of a woman so harshly battered that one must guess that she was once human, once alive. The face that might had cause a young man to smile, is now torn, bitten by rats, carved by the butcher's knife and now drug to the railroad tracks and discarded.
