It was a cold night. The pale gleam of the moon washed across the ground, and he found himself standing by a quiet road alone once again, outside the railway station of a small town. He was at odds with himself. He had missed the last bus, and the cabs were too expensive. He was looking at a two mile long trek across unfamiliar territory, in a land where he was a foreigner.
He spent half an hour deliberating, even as the wind started to bite. The cold seeped into his jacket, and his breath fogged in the cool night air, misting up his glasses.
He cursed himself for having stayed out in the big city so late, but it had been difficult for him to leave. He held the place dear for too many reasons. The shopping, the food, the hustle and bustle, and the people. Especially the people. It made him feel at home again, in a place that was his home far away from home. He had missed the last bus, and what followed was a rush to the central railway station, to catch a train back to the small town where he lived.
And now, he paced around. The men in the hoods around the corner were starting to make him nervous. He was small sized by the standards of the place, and he knew that he could not afford to stay around much longer if he was to make it home. He knew two routes home, but the shorter one took him through a whole mile of pitch darkness.
And that was what he chose. Setting off into the night, he quickened his step, hoping to reach home quickly.
As night deepened, the shadows lengthened and the streets became quieter. Occasionally, a car would rush by, sweeping up a clutch of leaves in its wake, and the sound of its passing quickly melded back into the quiet. When he reached the edge of the highway, he saw that it was like what he had expected. The road ahead was pitch black.
He walked into the darkness, and a fear gripped him. He had never walked in such darkness in his life. He stuck out his fingers in front of him, and he realised that he could not see them. He was lucky that the road ran ramrod straight, but even then, he depended on the headlights of oncoming cars for guidance. The headlights, as and when they appeared, would blind him with an intensity that was painful to his eyes, but he hurried his step even more when they appeared, because the illumination they provided would be fleeting, and the sound of their movement assured him that he was not lost.
Halfway through his walk, he looked to his left, and he saw a huge graveyard, covered in snow. An even more uncertain fear gripped his heart, especially when he saw that up ahead lay the entrance, a foreboding stone structure cast in grey, with a scary looking beast perched atop it. Even as he looked left, he saw that the graves stretched as far as the eye could see, although snow covered most of them so that only the tops of their tombstones stuck out. He wondered if anyone cared that he was out here, alone, and so very afraid. He knew deep down that the answer was no, but fought back the inevitable sadness that came along with it. He had to get home.
After walking an unknown number of minutes, he saw a road sign that indicated a branch in the road, into the area of town where he lived. He felt an immense sense of relief, that the directions in the maps of the town he had remembered had not failed him. He quickly settled into a quick jog, and ran into town across a little bridge with wooden rails at the side, and the sight of houses lining a single road on both sides, with mailboxes atop little pickets brought a cheer to him. He knew he was almost home.
It was only then he realised that he was really tired, and the backpack on his back was starting to feel really heavy. He also realised that he hadn't had any dinner, but there was nothing in the fridge back home. Dinner would once again be a packet of chips and two chocolate bars, washed down with water from the sink, or one of the bottles of beer he kept on his windowsill.
He kept on walking, past several streets that all looked the same, rows of houses with mailboxes out front. Not a single person was on the streets, and if he didn't know better, he would have assumed that it was a ghost town. A strange white gleam flooded the street. He looked up, and saw that the moon was out full tonight.
Crossing a roundabout and walking up a road, he saw the familiar sight of the university guardhouse. He flashed his identity card, walked in, and that was it. Half an hour and a two mile trek later, he was home.