In a city, forgotten by the world. With not even a name to stand by, as it fades away from the people’s minds and is lost within their hearts. Their streets choking on the fumes of their injustice, their blue sky buried by an avalanche of ash and smoke, and sunshine that will never again lighten their thoughts.

Citizens ponder if it was them that brought about this misery, this shadow of their home, only for them to understand the despair. That there is no hope.

*

One day a man down on his luck was lying on the street, not drunk enough to drown out his sorrow. He had lost his precious ring that was all he had left of his late wife, the only thing that had bound him together and without it he was nothing. Suddenly, he was tapped twice on the shoulder. Looking up in his dazed state, he saw something that he had never seen before.

Before him stood a tall lanky person wearing a top hat, but that was all he could make out, A shadow loomed over their body and other than the outlines, nothing could discern them.

‘What do you want?’ the drunk man yelled out, seemingly unfazed. Nothing mattered to him, nothing did.

The shadow leaned down and stretched out a fist, and then released it, revealing a worn-out golden ring. The drunk couldn’t believe his eyes and lunged to grab it but the shadow pulled back faster, stood up straight and began to walk away.

‘No, please give it back. Please, I’ll quit it the booze – and I’ll hold it with me. I’ll even sleep on it. So, please.’

Tears streamed down his face as his head planted to the floor in absolute misery. Then his head received another two taps and the shadow was kneeling again. They nodded their head and the drunk, knowing what it meant, did the same. The silhouette laid out the ring in his palm and again walked away. When the drunk looked away from the ring to say his gratitude, the silhouette was gone. It may have been a dream or some sort of hallucination, but the drunk stayed true to his word and soon earned a much nicer name.

*

This wasn’t the first time this happened. Tales are spun throughout the city of this mysterious figure. Some say they are as light as a feather, hopping between building to building, and some say they leave no sound even if they sprint on a cobbled road. Some say that they are a demon tricking the good hearted, or an angel bringing happiness to all those he visits. Do they want fame? Glory? Or do they want to be hidden away working in the background?

We don’t know who they are, what they want, or if they are even human. But one thing we know is that luck always falls on those they visit. And so this city, rotten with such luck, gives the figure a name. The Silhouette Man.