The Light That Followed Him

A man walks home on a perfectly lit street. Nothing unusual. Except the light

follows him. When he stops, it stops. When he moves, it moves.

He tests it. Steps backward. The circle of brightness slides with him. Everything outside

the light is pitch black. He tries to run. The light keeps pace.

Then he hears footsteps. Not his own. Coming from the darkness just beyond the edge.

Matching his rhythm. He spins around. The light spins too. But for one second,

he sees it. A figure. Staying just outside the brightness. Always there.

Always watching. He still walks that road. The light still follows.