It was a cold night here in Boston, past midnight. I was walking back home from Hannover Street, from an Improv I had gone to. As, I was walking, I noticed a lot of mist creeping out of a dark, desolate patch of land up ahead. So, I went to check what was it and why it was so misty. It was a cemetery. There was utter silence. I took a step ahead. I could hear my footsteps echo down the street. I could hear my heart accelerating. There was no one around me, or that's what I thought. I turned to my left and saw a tall, thin man standing about 5 yards away, facing me. He started to make his way towards me, making a cacophony with his heavy gum-boots, the echoes made it sound like there were a fleet of men marching alongside him. As he came closer I saw that he was very old, his body was frail and meek. He had quite the beard, and a really long hat! He was wearing black pants which were worn out and pretty much falling apart. He was also wearing a long trench coat that was torn at the sides. I also noticed that there were dark red stains on the collars and all over his white shirt. He lowered his long hat and said in a hoarse voice, "You see son, Time doesn't travel in a linear path the way we think it does, it travels in a circle, like Karma. The Past, The Present, and The Future. They all overlap each other. Now you might think that I'm just an old and lost drunkard filled with silly thoughts from an old book, but, I'll let you decide what I am. I am just an old, tired man from The Past, living in The Present, and seeing The Future. The Past is The Present as well as The Future because you are what you were and you will be what you are as The Present now will be The Past in The Future." He smiled, gave me a gentle pat on the back and walked away. Just before disappearing in the mist he turned around, waved and said, "Farewell Lad". I stood and watched as the mist engulfed him completely. And now, it was after me. I ran up the street and saw the cemetery fade away bit by bit into the arms of the mist. It was 1:30 am. I ran home, and, as I lay in bed, I couldn't stop thinking about our conversation. I searched for that man for an entire month after the incident. I did find the cemetery later, but, neither the mist nor the man ever came. I'll never know his name, or who he was. I'll never know where he came from, or where he went. I'll never understand what he meant, or how he suddenly appeared out of nowhere. But I'll always remember that meek, old face of his. His long hat and heavy gum-boots. The way his silver pocket-watch's loud ticking echoed down the street. I still search for him, hoping that one day, I'll find him and tell him that he was right. Till then, I'll just be Chasing Ghosts...
(Edited by Rohan Radder and Sukhmani Malhi)