In a sheltered little east coast town was a street unlike any others. Many inhabitants from the town would remember the name of the street and would live to tell generations to come about it. 10th Street would have never been so well known had Lucas Black set foot on that tranquil and suburb filled pavement.

No one knows why Lucas Black never woke up on the morning of September 23rd. Starting running back of the high school football team, Lucas stood at 6 foot 6 with a muscular torso and towering frame. His walnut colored haired shined in the fall sunlight and his dark eyes glistened like a icy fresh spring by a mountain.

Lucas never spoke much and made a habit of answering in a sentence that consisted of less than 8 words. You would never see him taking pleasure in reckless adolescent activities or smile frequently. People assumed he was introverted and understood this to be a side effect from the attention he received from playing football. They were wrong however. Lucas Black was so much more than the persona he presented at school.

They say the eyes are the window to soul but that’s just wrong. One’s eyes are their soul. Souls dance across the surface that serves as an intermediary between the real world and your world. Mr. Black’s eyes looked expressionless and apathetic to the average onlooker, but on further inspection you could read his story like an open book left open in the library begging to be picked up.

Why, you ask , am I so interested in this Lucas Black? I tend to become fascinated with some of my victims every so often and Mr. Black piqued my interest. It wasn’t his impressive athletic ability, his rich home life, or his above average intelligence that attracted me. The way he loved a certain girl 4 houses down from his enthralled my attention.

I will not reveal the name of the girl to respect Mr. Black’s wishes for she was his secret and would remain so until his last breath on that chilly autumn day. Giddy little thing she was with her long auburn hair and mossy eyes. Scars of incendiary origins plagued her face leaving it in a pink and red deformity. Her smile was made of a magnificence that radiated an optimism I long thought extinct. Her soul in every way was shiny and bright like a star in it’s prime never flaring out. Those mossy eyes left an everlasting impression of warmth and you felt at home. She was true beauty.

The origins of their friendship is unknown to me, but by the way they conversed and touched I saw that their love was different than any I’ve witnessed in my time. No passion, only eternal devotion. I felt a sensation in my bosom that I had not felt in a very long time. I have witnessed eons of war and roamed this world in search of the next soul that called out to me.

It was never my intention to collect the young girl so soon. When I leaned across her angelic and lifeless figure I wept for her. A brain ailment of some kind had slithered it’s way to steal the life from under her and I was there to pick up the pieces. When I carried her away I remember the enchanting smile that stayed on her lips even in death. The day was August 23rd then.

I resolved to avoid Lucas Black and not meet him again for years to come when he had withered out as an older man. To be completely truthful I was a coward and I could not bare to look into that soul of his and find the pain and suffering he felt. I may be an angel of night, but I feel what you feel...it’s my burden.

Meeting Lucas Black had come sooner than I had anticipated and I came face to face with the boy once again. This time his skin was paled and his remained shut forever. With a sorrowful sigh I picked him up. He was heavy and I hoped that he would find peace on the other side to alleviate him. I also wished for him to reunite with the recipient of his affections once again, but that was out of my control. 

Everyone wanted to know the cause of Mr. Black’s sudden eternal rest. Many wondered whether it was by his own hand or a casualty he earned from taking constant beatings on the football field. Though I cannot say so with certainty, I believe Lucas Black died of a broken heart, for his heart belonged to a certain beauty and without her it languished away until it’s rhythmic beating was no longer heard. Perhaps she had held it in her soft hands when I took her away and it had gone unnoticed to me.

Whatever the reason, 18 year old Lucas Black died on a small little street in a town where he played and loved. To the people in the town it was known as the 10th Street Tragedy but it was hardly one. They could not see beauty that had graced 10th Street for a fleeting moment and, like the season of autumn, left as quickly as it appeared.