He Is the Night K.R. Cipher The night was still, the only noise breaking the quiet being a passing car, the deep sound of the engine parting the silence, low and heavy. Rain started pattering gently on the cold, hard concrete covering the road, quickly picking up in speed and density as it fell, growing stronger as the minutes passed. Lightning cracked across the dark and distant sky, a rolling rumble of echoing thunder making its entrance only seconds later. Every few moments the rare pedestrian ran across the side pavement, hoping to escape the cold torrent of growing rain, and make it to their warm and inviting home. Only one didn't bother to leave as the storm grew. His eyes flickered over to his own home, a fairly regular house sitting on a fairly regular street. The porch's lamplight was illuminating the area, and to most it would be seen as an invitation away from the cold and the darkness. He didn't appear to mind the rain, however, and he didn't move as he continued to stand among the pouring sky. A strong wind pulled his hood off, exposing his head for a split second before he reached a hand out from his pocket, pulling it back over his pale hair. He took a deep breath, inhaling in slowly and practically sighing out the calming, cool air, closing his eyes as he did so. He kept them that way for a minute or two, letting the rain continue on its way down to the earth from the heavens above. And then he made his decision. It was simple, something that didn’t matter to anyone but him. He decided as he reopened his eyes, as black and as empty as the clouded sky above, that he didn’t like the rain. He had decided that he despised the rain with the entirety of his being. It was a nuisance at this late hour, doing no more that covering the true beauty of the night. He had no need for the rain. And when, finally, the rain slowed to a simple stop, and the clouds drew away from the air, his eyes changed. They were no longer the color of a cloudy midnight’s sky. Now, as the moon shone brightly from above, and the stars twinkled in response, his eyes were a beautiful silver, a silver stronger and brighter than any light to ever shine. And that was because He Is the Night.
Name of story: He Is the Night Genre: I guess fantasy? If short story is a genre then that too. This is something I'd like to enter in an official story competition with prizes at stake, tell me if you think it would be good enough (it's v short though, so I might have to put it together with the two sequels I'm writing to enter it in anything)
