Be Brave Traveler

Write about something mysterious.

I walk out the door with my earbuds in, a song ready to play. The threat of morning is slowly creeping into the late-night hours as I make my way up the street. The scattered remnants and echoes of just a few hours before are all around me. I pass by people sitting on stoops, heads in their hands, glitter, and pizza sauce stain the clothes they so perfectly selected, ironed, and adorned.

I make my way around the corner and out of the chaos. Further up the street, the sounds of the night fade into memory. There are only a few blocks to go before I can shake off my shell and crawl under the covers. A dark figure is just outside of a comfortable distance, across the street behind me, following. Watching with eagle eyes, peering down alleyways and in dark shadows. I’m stubborn, but so is the figure following me.

But I’m not the one who should be worried about the figure. No, it’s anyone who thinks this is an opportunity to approach me in the dark of night, looking for a good time, or maybe to empty my pockets. The figure is my shadow because I refuse to take a cab the few blocks home. They follow me, knowing if they’re close enough, I’ll yell at them. Staying just out of yelling range. But, I’m grateful for their presence. Even if I won’t admit it.

Finally, I unlock my door, get inside and lock it behind me. It’s only then that the shadow peels off on their way to their own destination. I sink into bed, the bass of the night finally fading away, and fall asleep.