The lone steerer of the tram stares ahead into the distance. His expression is inscrutable and although his body is performing the necessary actions to do with the steering, his mind is light years away. His eyes are slightly droopy, but at the same time, uncannily sharp. (Make no mistake, he is more than capable of averting an accident should such a mis-situation present itself. God forbid.) In the distance, his vehicle relentlessly heeds on.

It is half-past midnight. Rain had struck just a few moments ago and from nothingness, a faint fog emerges. The night is deathly chill, the moon luminous in the black inkiness of the night. A pitter-patter of leaves carelessly roll along the footpath, riders of the wind, as if to escape some unseen horror. The usually comforting amber of the streetlights has taken on a weird complexion, and incites a dull feeling of dread in the breast. There are no mechanical vehicles on the street. Motionless silence.

The scene seems to be set…but for what? As if in answer to that very question,

A silent rumbling presents itself from the distance. The earth shivers from the sound, but unfortunately, it cannot escape. Closer, closer, closer… a tense moment, and for a part of a second, time stops and the rumbling has ceased. Just when the moment seems to prolong, it is snatched back into order, almost rudely.

And then the white, green and yellow steed presents itself, ship of light. Majestically it breaks onto the scene, slicing the fog, as if breaking free from within a wound and escaping, escaping, running towards freedom. The darkness has vanished, and it feels like a long-awaited savior has arrived. In glorious galloping motion, with speed and sheer audacity it dispels darkness, daring it to prove itself. But nowhere is he to be seen. Quivering and whimpering, he has vanished from the light and sound to hid in places unknown. The captain, despite being aeons away, is fully aware of the grandness of his ship, and, if you thought about the brief moment a little while later, you would have remembered that he had a half-smile on his face. While he looked directly at you, lone watcher from the balcony just above. His job done, the magic trick performed, he sails away.

The awesomeness of the experience, brief though it was, has you clutching the icy handrails tightly until your fingers turn white. You stay rooted to the spot. Just as you take a step to go back inside, you hear a faint hiss, almost vengeful in nature. You aren’t sure if you imagined it, so you instinctively turn around.

Like a miasma, the vapoury darkness surrounds the scene once again coiling out of every hiding spot, nook and cranny. It is as though the past few seconds never existed.

Despite not wanting to, you walk onto the balcony once again, hold the rails, and lean forward, peering into the darkness. You are trying to listen for something.

A pause, and then an eerie croak:

You tricked me again! Just wait and watch, it will be my turn next, oh yes it will.

---

[FEATURED IMAGE SOURCE]