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The wind caressed the back of his neck and blew his soft white hair forward as he sat silently in the night on a swing in the local park. He pushed himself softly as he dug his feet into the fine sand every now and then. He loosely held the chains of the swings, exhaling and inhaling through his mouth. He got a letter in the mail for him reading that it would be a wise decision if he came to the park that night. In response, he threw on a white tank top, long sleeve yet slim black hoodie, a pair of skinny blue jeans, and a pair of normal slip on shoes, and headed out the door.
He didn't know what he was waiting for or on, all he knew was that it was going to be morning sooner or lately, isn't not as though anyone would care, nor did he have school tomorrow, but he would have rather felt being safe in his own home. His hoodie fell off the sides of his shoulders, and he put his hands in his hoodie pocket, his lips didn't tremble, as cold as is was all his soft skin could do was grow use to the piercing weather. He was starting to feel as though this was all a prank, or just an all around bad idea, especially with all the people turning up missing, without a trace, or without a sign of it even being a kidnapping.
He looked up at the sky, there wasn't a cloud in sight, though the stars shines, and there were plenty of them tonight. As well as a full moon. When he was a small child he loved thinking about what it would be like to just float in outer space, of course, being 15 now he realizes that its impossible,'Oh Poet, my dear Poet you can do anything if you set your mind to it...' his mother would always tell him, filling his mind with fantasies and desires. He broke himself from his trance and looked towards the sand,"I guess, it must have been a joke. Wouldn't have been the first." Poet said whispering to himself. He got up from the swing, with his hands still in his pockets, and slowly begun to walk towards his home.
