I am nocturnal. I like the night. I am not a Goth-freak, nor
a psychotic killer. I am no thief, nor a bounty hunter.
Can't call me a "Vampire", real or fictive; although I would
like the idea, dreaming is a habit of mine. I don't suffer
from insomnia, paranoia, mania-depression, cancer, aids or
any other malfunctions - physical nor mental.

I just like the night.

I used to work night-shifts, till I realized how much of a
jerk my boss was. Homophobe yet sexist, his kind makes me
want to hurl. But by the time I quit, I found out I couldn't
live a happy life without the dark blue skies of the
suburbs. Taking that job was a dead-end solution to paying
for school. Graduating was, at the time, a prime objective
for me. Even before my parents cut my trust fund. I realized
how much I disliked the busy, noisy and all too lively
daytime schedule.

The bone-chilling silence is what attracts me the most. This
natural darkness comes upon this world for a little bit less
than half a day. It has been for the last few tens of
millions of years, since genesis. Some take it for granted,
but in all our hearts it poses something of a threat. It
scares the daily chatter of unimportant things like
popularity, appropriate behavior and the monotonous lives we
all want. I am not friendless, my friends strive in evenings
as well. Nor do I act like a vandal or anarchist, I usually
stroll streets or parks, looking for the rare activities.
Spectators believe I have no aim at life, however, as will
be described in other times, I walk a straight live for a
stable future (at least I hope it will be) - in the
night-time. I like looking at bats instead of birds, and the
sound of dogs barking and even the occasional siren or glass
shattering instead of sun perverted chatter.

Along with that, the real and interesting people are more
common at night time. Of course, I would never befriend nor
even talk to burglars, bullies or hit-and-run troublemakers.
People have nothing to hide at night. Their secrets area
already partially hidden in the gloom, anyway. It is then,
in the late-hour silence that such people can bring out
their true feelings and thoughts without being judged by
society's sometimes ugly rules and standards. But the first
friend I made at this period of my life I met at a chilly,
damp, October evening. I just woke up as the last day-shop
closed. Shower, coffee - must have coffee, newspaper, warm
clothes-including a leather jacket I really like, and I went
out.

"Got a smoke?" a guy in a late-night magazine store asks.
"No, I don't smoke, sorry". "That's too bad," he replies,
matching the apologetic smile I gave him. We both chuckle
politely, he lights one, and I go back to doing whatever I
was doing. "I like these shops, you know. It has reading
material you can't find in the day stores. Come here often?"
I was beginning to thing he was coming on to me. A chill
passed my torso. "No, just passing by. My house is a short
walk from here". I reply casually, not wanting to hear
anything about his special 'hobbies'. "This one has god
real-life stories about cops and robbers from the 50's. I
can just sit on a bench, coffee in hand and read them till
that sun pops up." He sighs.

I took another look at him, less repelled now. My reaction
took bits of surprise. He was dressed like a genuine
detective from the past. A leather jacket, flannel pants,
unimportant black shoes and had an old fashioned brim-hat
under his arm, holding a new magazine. He looked about 20
years older than me, but not un-attractive.

"You like those, too?" I asked with a startled chuckle, "I
am a fanatic reader. Detectives, unsolved mysteries, secrets
to be revealed,'' I pause for a moment, shaking my head
shyly. ''Ever since my mother got me the first Sherlock
Holmes book when I was little." I said, honestly interested.
"I knew you would," he replied with a knowing finger, "It
was obvious once I saw the investigative look in your eyes!"
we shared a quiet chuckle, ''I find them quite enthralling
myself, as well, although tension isn't the genre I usually
read.'' A short quiet passes between us, as we both realize
it might be realize to know each other. ''Hey, I'm just on
my way to the park. Some pooch took a liking to me there,
but no one else than him to talk to. Share a bench with me
tonight?"

Now, you must understand I wouldn't usually just go with a
complete stranger anywhere, but I sensed he was decent. And
since this was one of my first nights as an unemployed,
still aimless stranger in a period of the day I still
haven't come to know so well, an interest in this man peaked
in me. I agreed, and we headed a park unknown to me, already
deep in discussion about books.

We took a walk. only bats fluttering from tree to rooftop, a
stray dog barking behind us and a siren in the background.
Just a walk, my new friend and me, just a quiet, soothing,
stroll in darkness.