This was inspired by the book Night by Elie Wiesel.

Ever since Zoran witnessed his first protest, he realized just how suspicious everything seemed.

When Zoran turned 8, his mother took him to work with her. Zoran had always aspired, and still does, to be an artist. There was no better gift then to watch his mother at work painting masterpieces.

However, when they pulled in to his mother's studio, which was in the city between crowded streets and tall buildings, there was a protest.

Zoran couldn't remember what they were about; what they were against. All he remembered were the children forced to stay with their parents or guardians as they shouted profanities against what they disliked.

It was sad.

I couldn't help but stare at one girl who looked sad. As mother pulled me through the front door, ignoring the revolt, the girl, no older than I, turned and met my gaze.

She had dull honey eyes and silky yet ratty auburn hair. She looked older than she was, too old. And sad.

I maintained eye contact all the way until mother closed the door with a loud resounding clack. It snapped me out of the silence of the shouting crowds and loud silent eyes of the girl.

I'm contradicting myself, I know. But that's how it was. I couldn't hear the crowd, but they were loud. I couldn't hear the girl's eyes, but they spoke millions.

I watched my mom paint for a few minutes before my mind became too preoccupied with the girl.

I did the only thing my body wanted me to... I went out to see her again. Just a glance. It was only to satisfy me.

It did the opposite however.

I walked back out there to find the whole street deserted. There was no one at all. The only things of evidence were the signs the people had held up and the papers scatter across the street.

No girl; no people. They were all gone.

I'm 17 now. It was such a long time ago. I often think it was just a dream, even if, deep down, I know that it was real.

Sometimes, I get so frustrated with myself, that I wish for something to help me. Something to prove that that was strange, and that I didn't think it up.

I should be careful with what I wish for...