text: It was winter again. Winter was when they came. The respite of autumn had faded. The nights now much longer, the air much colder. New families had moved into the homes of those that had gone. They had heard rumours of the string of disappearances, but had no choice. It was slim pickings for the poor. No one was sure what they were. I peered through the bedroom curtain once, and all that did was confuse me more. Some were bipedal, almost human, while others crawled on all fours. They prowled the streets, hunters searching for prey. All were as dark as shadows. They would come to the door, but I would never open it. They would try to trick you into opening the door. One night, I heard my mother pleading for me to let her in from the other side of the door. She’d been dead for six years. I would hear the screaming of my neighbours as they fell for their tricks. I think it was their screams. I wasn’t sure of anything. It could have been another trick. The news never reported it, the police refused to help. We were the dregs of society, not worth the attention. As long as the shadows stayed out of the cities, the world was happy. Out of sight, out of mind. Was that the deal? Perhaps those in ivory towers had traded the lives of the downtrodden in exchange for safety. It wasn’t much different before the shadows came. We were the ones who scrubbed their toilets, delivered their food, cleaned their cars. Yet all we got were the crumbs from the rich man’s table. We were already slowly dying, the shadows just sped that up. If anything, it was a mercy. I considered this nightly. The purpose of my existence. The struggle of long work days for little pay, the fear of death throughout the winter. What was it all for? What, exactly, was in it for me? Tonight, I was awoken again by a voice at the door. I say awoke, but during winter it wasn’t really sleep. It was impossible to really sleep. The voice was feminine, sultry. I peered through the spyhole and saw the figure of a beautiful woman. Long red hair, full lips. “I know what you are, but I have a proposition.” The shadow grew silent. “I’ll let you in. I’ll accept my fate. But you must keep this form, you must let me have you. My life is nothing but long, drawn out, anguish. I want a single night of ecstasy before I die.” The shadow remained silent for a moment, and then spoke. “I accept.” I unlocked the door. The woman smiled and crossed the threshold. Her eyes were completely black. We kissed. We were already slowly dying, the small pleasures of life a barely palatable distraction from the crushing agony of existence. At least this way it was my choice. At least this way I could embrace the void.