He approached the wood land area with the Owls sound drawing him in, he ventured further. He was no longer cold, yet warm and lost his dressing gown almost voluntary. Mud smothered his feet as he kicked away his slippers from his pale feet. He felt no need to rub away the sleep felt weight that rested on his eye lids, and the woods came to an end. Darrell could see the land marks of the resting, he continued to them, wondering why he wanted to. How did this night suddenly turn to day? Had he gone mad and walked around in daylight as a nights man? But wait...he was still there, with the resting. The sun was blinding yet Darrell was very cold again...ice cold. He moved closer towards the voices. He walked quietly as not to be noticed, but needed an answer to why he was here. He knew this place it seems, not far from his house. There, a man talking down and people gathered around dressed in black crying. A funeral. He was at the cemetery. Darrell thought about all the better places he could have chosen to sleep walk. He waited for the mourners to depart and made his way over to the tombstone. He nosily bent down and moved the flowers from the plack. It was there that Darrell finally seen, it read...DARRELL SMOGGS R.I.P...His tormented soul roamed, until he was visioned with his past. He would see those he hurt. His heroin addiction killed him, like he killed those...to feed his addiction.
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