The warehouse sits in the middle of the old industrial district, an ugly block of concrete.

Its brawls across the land casting its weary gaze out onto its dilapidated surroundings.

There was a time when it was the shining jewel of this town.

A time when it would bustle with the optimistic energy of the workers who lived

identical lives in identical houses just over the hill,

when large boxes of electronics would pass through it on their way to different corners of the country,

and sometimes even across the sea.

But all that is ancient history, of course.

For now, it is nothing but an isor battered with age.

A sad and decrepit reminder of this town's once great potential.

Wind whistles through its shattered windows,

like the mournful howl of an abandoned dog.

Weeds and ivy crawl up its sides as if trying to make its sink into the ground while a chain

of grimy flickering two blights adorning its crumbling boundary wall,

desperately tried to sweep aside the gloom that is settled into its very bones.

Definitely not a place a fledgling like me would choose to spend his Friday night at.

But sometimes things are so far beyond our control that we can do nothing,

but be swept by the tides of causality.

As I climb out of my car, I adjust the buttons of my suit and let my eyes drift over the warehouse.

Not because it holds my interest in any way,

but because I would rather look at anything but at the man.

No, the creature standing outside the rusted front gate,

...