The Sun Sets in Manhattan: Midnight

Disclaimer: My dreams tend to have graphic imagery.

With my gift and ability to fly, I stay afloat just inches over the dark street. He is already on the ground, his feet clicking a thuk each time his heel touches the wet concrete floor. What a strange sound walking made.

“Come. Land next to me,” he suggests.

I stay in the air. I am comfortable here.

“Land,” he raises his voice.

I am taken back. Now I really want to stay in the air. He had never raised his voice before. His face becomes twisted. Anger seeps into his eyes.

“Why won’t you land? What’s wrong with you? Land!” His patience was running thin. I fly away from the man who used to be my savior.

The open air is my safe haven. 

I almost do not notice the shadows walking out from behind buildings. One group dons red bandanas. The other proudly wears poisonous yellow. Infamous gang members on the Upper East Side. More men from opposing gangs crawl out from the shadows and crevices. I stay afloat to study my suroundings.

A bullet flies by me. I then realize – this was a gang war.

I do not hesitate. I immediately dart into the sky, safe and out of reach from the crossfire. I beckon him to follow, to fly with me, to run away from being in the middle of a turf war. But he would not ascend.

Bullets fly in every direction and echoes ring inside my head. I desperately eye him, waiting for him to make eye contact, to join me in the sky. But he does not. Instead, he begins flailing his arms like a rag doll, shooting up the men around him with a large machine gun. His eyes glow red. Body parts could be seen flying to pieces, blood pooling on the ground.

Bullets pierce his body open. Yet, he continues standing, screaming at me. “Why won’t you land? You won’t land even when I’m being shot at? Come and save me!” There is a menacing look in his eyes.

I am shaking in midair. I do not land. All I hear are bullets. All I see is blood. All I feel is coldness of the night.

A red-headed woman flies into my vision out of nowhere and snaps me into reality.

“He’s a shapeshifter,” she explains. “You have been tricked. But thank the heavens you’re all right. We must get out of here.”

She tugs my hand, ever so gently.

I look at the creature that resembles my savior.

“He may be able to change his appearance, but he cannot fly like the rest of us.”

I swallow my fear. We fly out of the warzone.


Part I: Sunset

Part III: Dawn