Farid Had Brought An Invisible Guest With

The Night Breathed Through The Apartment Like A Dark Animal. The Ticking Of A Clock. The Groan Of A Floorboard As He Slipped Out Of His Room. All Was Drowned By Its Silence. But Jacob Loved The Night. He Felt It On His Skin Like A Promise. Like A Cloak Woven From Freedom And Danger.

Stories Never Really End...even If The Books Like To Pretend They Do. Stories Always Go On. They Don't End On The Last Page, Any More Than They Begin On The First Page.

The Truth's Not Pretty Of Course. No One Likes To Look It In The Face.

The Night Belongs To Beasts Of Prey, And Always Has. It's Easy To Forget That When You're Indoors, Protected By Light And Solid Walls.

Nothing Is More Terrifying Than Fearlessness.