Lights Out

There's another one standing underneath the street lamp. She's the third one this month. I've started to pay attention, noticing the way they stare up at the bulb as if it's the sun and they're a plant basking in its warmth.

It's not always a woman, a week ago, it was a man. He stood beneath the light in his three-piece suit, a briefcase clutched in his hand. I found the briefcase odd, after all, it was almost three in the morning. The workday was long over and a new one was hours away.

They never see me. Not that I expect them to. People overlook homeless people in the park during the day and that makes us nearly invisible at night. Besides, my bench is nearly one hundred feet from the street lamp, far outside the bright pool of light that the woman currently occupies.

She doesn't make a sound. Her body is almost statue-like, straight and tall, with her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. It's a windless night, and the sound of crickets is deafening.

I slide forward on the bench, feeling the hard metal rails press against my thighs. I try not to crinkle the day old newspaper, for fear of spooking her. Although, something inside me tells me I should. The voice screams in my head.

Get her attention! Don't let her stand there!

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from shouting out a warning. The minutes tick by and I know it's coming. The air is thick with the promise of it. But, I'm afraid. Afraid to get involved. Afraid she might see me as the enemy and whip a can of pepper spray from her Gucci bag. My eyes still sting from the phantom memory of the one time I intervened with an argument in the park. I don't relish another round. 

So, I say nothing.

There's one other reason I don't speak out. It's because I think they know it's coming too. I think they're here looking for it.

The man had smiled. Smiled! Right before it happened. He had looked insane, grinning like a clown with his face turned toward the night sky. That face is burned in my memory. That's why when his photo turned up in the newspaper, I recognized it right away.

Missing. 

He was missing alright. Although, vanished into thin air is the phrase I'd use. I should know. I saw it happen and the slow churn in my gut told me I was about to see it happen again.

The woman doesn't smile. In fact, she turns her head and stares in my direction. The sharp angles of her face look pale and drawn. There's apprehension in her eyes and in the way she purses her lips. The air lodges in my throat. Even though I know she can't see me in the dark, our eyes meet.

I don't turn away.
I watch.

Her hands tremble slightly, and I almost want to reach out and take it. Pull her away, out of the light and into the dark, where it's safer.

Then, the light flickers. She jerks her head up, and for a second the crickets go quiet. I hold my breath. Nothing moves.

The light blinks out, plunging her into a black void. I strain my eyes, trying to catch any glimpse of her. A minute goes by. There's an unearthly silence. The kind of quiet that fear breeds in. It multiplies until you're gripped in its icy fist trying to suck in one last breath of air while tiny dots dance in front of your eyes..

Lungs aching, I allow a small gasp. The sound seems to trigger the light. It bursts on, illuminating the cracked pavement where children and dogs walked hours before in the sunshine.

The woman is gone.

Nothing of her remains. The crickets resume their endless song and a light breeze rustles through the trees. I crumple the newspaper into a ball and tuck it under my head as I lay flat across the bench.