• It was a cool, dry night in June. Or perhaps it was July. One of those weird summer months that begin with the letter "J." Actually, it could very well have been a very atypical January. The only real difference between winter and summer in Neptha was about fifty miles per hour of wind. But in any case, it did in fact begin with a "J," it was, in fact a month, it was dark and therefore night, and was safe to assume that it was dry. After all, the town did sit on the very edge of known habitable land before it turned into a flat plain of dried-up death.

    And there was, in fact, something moving slowly at the edge of town.

    There were old stories about the desert to the West. Stories about demons and ghosts that roamed around, feeding upon those that dared seek out the dangers there, and each other when those warnings were heeded. No one believed those stories anymore. They just knew not to go West.

    They still didn't dare prove the old stories wrong.

    It had to be four in the morning: too late for anyone to be still out drinking, too early for anyone to be out doing business. The only places left open at this hour were either brothels or hospitals. And, these days anyhow it seemed, it was tough to tell the difference between the two. Aside from a few brave insomniacs, this town was dead asleep.

    The dark figure moved amongst the shadows, trudging along as if carrying a heavy burden. It was difficult to tell what sort of shape this shadow of a creature was. Anyone awake enough to be curious might have looked out a window and seen an amorphous shape, about six and a half feet tall, and wide enough that it would not fit in any door frame.

    For an hour, it trudged down the dusty road that lead from the West, steady as a drum and just as determined. The theoretical insomniac would have, from his window, noted that it moved as if it had a limp, dragging one unseen foot behind it.

    There is something to be said about theoretical insomniacs: they're quite paranoid at 4 am, and for the sake of clarity the one theoretical insomniac in question was quite perceptive as well. While this insomniac may have been in serious doubt whether this creature was actually there and not a figment of his sleep-deprived imagination, he would have described the creature, this demon or ghost from the West, as ultimately conflicted: moving so slowly because of some secret pain or burden it carried, but at the same time still sinister. Still hungry.

    Trick or treat, it seemed to whisper as it trudged along. It passed a house where a light had been left burning. Warm, soft light passed over this creature. It seemed to be made of little more than torn, weathered cloth. Something like cotton... something like a funeral shroud.

    Smell my feet, the mass of fabric whispered, laughing at how silly the notion sounded. Ha. Smelling feet Why would you smell his feet? No one ever got close enough to smell his feet. What a silly child's rhyme.

    The cloth creature stopped at the doorstep of the hospital. It seemed unsure whether this was the right place. It had a sign out front that said it was a hospital, but something about the dusty exterior of the building made the creature hesitant. It looked around; all the buildings around here were covered with dust. It did not feel so lost now... but felt certainly as though it did not belong there.

    One human hand, dark as the shadows that surrounded it, shot out in front and, rather politely, knocked on the door.

    Knock. Knock. Knock.

    Give me something good to eat, the demon seemed to say as it knocked on the door. A pair of eyes fluttered open, laughed, saw nothing but shadows, and closed again.

    The door opened and soft light flooded on the stranger. Much to the surprise of the nurse who answered, two men were in the doorway: one being carried on the other's back, wrapped in a worn, thinning blanket. Before the nurse in the doorway could ask any questions, the man who stood wobbling spoke. "Please," he said in a rasping, low voice. "Please help my brother," just before his knees finally gave into his weight, his brother's weight, and about three days of traveling with little water.

    The nurse, being a good nurse, immediately called for help and two traveling men were rushed inside.