I am lost in the expanse of a city, unsure where I am exactly. There are people everywhere, whizzing randomly at various paces to various places. It is an urban setting, with towering buildings that pierce into the firmament and blot out the blue sky; with cars and busses trudging slowly through the contours of streets, and alleyways; and with the sweet smell of smog subtly in the air like an aroma at a bakery. There are pigeons, too, some flying in the same mayhem motions as the people below, and more numerous others that bounce along the ground where they entertain the children that chase them.
The noise of the city: vehicles, pigeons, people, and all, is like a steady, constant rumble with predictable fluctuations and continuous uproar. There are people sitting on the benches, some reading, some talking, some watching, silently. There are restaurants, cafes, and shops at the foundations of every tower, and each is defended by wide sidewalks bustling with strangers. In this confusion, I stand.
I spin about hoping for some coherency, only to find none. It appears that everyone else knows exactly what they are doing and where they are going, but I don’t truly know that – I assume it as I focus on myself. I am seeking, that I know, and I am moving, always. As creatures and machines jostle in every direction, I zero in on one. Through the aimlessness, I move.
I am hunting for something invisible, – I think It exists – but I have an idea of Its looks. I see It, sometimes, but only fuzzy parts of It that I can barely grasp or understand. This amorphous being that eludes me has a very distinct feeling to It, such that I can sense Its nearing presence and pick out the way. I sniff for the preternatural aura like a werewolf its prey. Amid the chaos, I search.
As I steadily approach the Phantom that has been the envy of my existence, I wonder continually what It is like. I know that as I get closer, I will see It more clearly, and that once I arrive, It will be visible in whole. But until then I am left muddled and lost, knowing only vaguely where to go. But I crave this Ghost, this Entity that I pray is not imaginary, and I hunger for It as a rabid dog its bone. Its physicality becomes clearer and clearer as Its outline nearly distinguishes. I was moving cautiously, but now, I run.
The Figure does not speed as I sprint, but travels as It had. It navigates through streets and alleyways, buildings and towers, vehicles, pigeons, people, and all, but I follow with fervor till I am directly behind It. I can now discriminate this Shade from the shadows of the surrounding buildings, and at once I know positively that It is real. Preparing for the ultimate revelation and the final fulfillment, I bend my knees and assume arms in position. Ready to pounce, I breathe.
Knees bent, arms in position, and deep breath taken, I second guess myself as a glimmer of doubt touches my mind. And in my hesitance, the Thing escapes. My plan is foiled. I detect Its trace and resume my trek, lamenting another opportunity lost. In the hope that dreams do come true, I continue.
Whispers of Satan 