There was something comforting about the all encompassing darkness that pervaded throughout the winter months from November to January. He would go walking at all times of the day and night in these months, enjoying the feeling of anonymity that the veil of the weather provided. It was during one of these walks that it had first consciously occurred to him that he was effectively hidden in plain sight, the novelty of being outside at five in the morning and walking the roads before anyone else is yet awake now afforded to him at all times by the almost constant darkness of the time of year. The feeling of owning the streets was appealing to his solitary nature.
He had been seeking solitude since a young age, always more at ease with his own company, stimulated more by his own imagination than by the thoughts and actions of his peers. That feeling of quiet superiority had never left him and he now found himself as an adult able to go through weeks at a time with nought but the most slight contact with other people. His work was done from home, remotely submitted to his publishers by computer and only occasionally warranting a telephone conversation with his publishing contact, Nick. It has fascinated Nick no end that his writing could enthral people and that readers could connect with his work, but that he would never have any interest in meeting his fans, reading their opinions or connecting with them personally. His refusal to publiscise his work or carry out any promotion was a constant thormn in Nick's side, albeit one that he had learned over the years to simply work around. If anything, it seemed to add to his appeal amongst his fans. The chill wind whipped the powdery snow hard into his face and he bowed his head into the wind and increased his speed, ironically now going nowhere in particular at greater speed.
It had been at university that he'd last had friends, and even then they were few and his dealings with them had been rather more occasional and civil than frequent and meaningful, which only accentuated his reputation amongst his classmates as a loner. 8 years had passed since then and he had spent every one of them totally alone, bar occasional dealings with delivery men, postal workers and Nick.
Of course it helped that he had no family, his mother having died in his teens and having no other living relatives. It was amazingly easy to be anonymous when there wasn't anyone to call you or care about you. He had occasionally wondered how long it would be that his corpse would lie in his house before anyone thought to enquire after him? At such times his self-imposed isolation ceased to feel comforting and he would instead feel withdrawn and anxious, but he'd been alone for so long that he didn't know anymore how to speak to anyone about it, regardless of the fact that he didn't have anyone to speak to about it anyway. It was at such times that he would take to walking in the darkness for hours at a time, the cold air distracting his mind and the fact that he was in public, albeit alone in public in the darkness, made him feel more like he was still a member of society. "If I was to die", he thought, "this is when I want it to happen".
Hyper Smash
Pingates
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