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Already they're forming, the shadows. Thick ink fingers slide along the high brick and iron that keep the dead from running rampant. I keep close to the wall, ivy ebbing at my feet as darkness covers me.

As long as I'm careful not to be seen by anyone who knows me it will be all right. He had warned me that being seen would bring talk and talk can be dangerous. It brings out the curious; all prying eyes and sharpened knives. It's happened before.

The shadows bleed over the memorials, the scrubby shrubs and paving stones as the sun sets over Highgate. This is when I miss the day the most. It was my choice to join him but I can't help but miss the warmth, the light, the life. He told me it would take a bit to adjust. After all no one is expected to come to it overnight.

Story by:

Amiee Gibbs

submitted at 4:15am

30 September 2010