As I headed home I could feel the icy shards, from the freezing rain, hitting the fragile skin on my bare face. I hoped my door would be open, or at least the doorman would still be working, as I forgot my key when I left earlier today. This would prove to be a very cold night, should I have to spend the evening on the streets, oh how I feel for the homeless in winter!
We were always told never to walk alone in the woods on the night of the Harvest Moon.
Tonight here I am walking, alone, in the night, with only the orange glow of a fictional moon to guide me.
If I do not make it out of the woods tonight I hope that the next person listens when they are told to never walk alone in the woods on the night of the Harvest Moon.
Can you hear their cries, the cries of joy and of pain? Do you see the remnants of the lives that no longer have a place to live? Who took it all away and left the walls to hold the secrets?
