I always loved the night. Driving a train through the night used to turn my fantasy in overdrive. Not anymore. At least, not for some time.
I always thought nothing could hurt me in the dark. I felt protected by the creatures of the night, even by night itself. Not anymore. Violence came too close. I don't understand.
Violent Death not only took a man close to me, he also gazed at me for quite a while. A smile I will never forget, incomparable to the laughter of the man he killed.
Slowly, I start to accept the rules of the night again. I'm not terrified anymore. Still, it will take a lot of time to meet that bowing mole again, to see pim-pam-petting pheasants alongside the tracks. Until then, I will look over my head, to find a shooting star, granting me a wish or two. More likely, I will look to the ground. I will glace into deep water. I will slowly walk into the swamps. I can't imagine the will-o'-the-wisp will let me drown. Not unless the night itself is fiction, and I'm left behind with nothing but darkness...