Haze roused himself, bleary eyed from a day of little sleep. The evening chimes were tolling out over the town, not that he regarded them much. Living behind the clock face had sort of numbed his ears to the sound of the bells. As well as most other noise.

He strode to the small exterior access hatch on the backside of the clock face, kicking it open and ducking through. He minded his feet as he stepped onto the narrow wooden walkway along the front of the building, walking the plank to the far end. He lowered himself down to sit on the edge, his elbows and chin resting on the thin rails. He gazed down at the sprawling town far below, lights twinkling and casting a warm glow. The same view he always had, without a thing out of place, as far as he could tell.

Running his fingers through his fluffy brown hair, Haze frowned. On the far side of town, barely visible through the fog, small lights sprung to life, one at a time. He watched for a few minutes, and soon the entire street was bathed in yellow light.

"What have we here...?" Haze muttered, narrowing his eyes. He scooted back and rose to his feet, leaning out over the rail. As hard as he squinted, he couldn't see the horrid creature bringing light to the area any better. So he climbed up onto the railing and paced his way across the air towards the street under scrutiny. He had to walk significantly farther than he had first guessed, but it didn't matter. He had plenty of time, and the little flames springing up along each avenue let him keep track of where he was headed.

Soon Haze was able to stare down at the dark shape lighting the fires, though he was still too high to see them clearly. So he floated down to leer up close.

It was an old man. An old, bent, hideous man.

The Lamplighter, Haze remembered.

“I hate The Lamplighter,” He said aloud. He quickly clamped his hands over his mouth. Didn't mean to say that.

The old man turned to face Haze, his gnarled brow knit. “Oh!” He stepped back. “Hello there, boy.” Haze wondered if his remark had fallen on deaf ears.

The Lamplighter looked him up and down, then pointed his lighting stick at Haze's feet, which were nearly a yard above the uneven pavement. “I see yer floatin' there. That's...not normal, eh?”

Haze frowned. “It is for me,” He said indignantly.

“I see.”

The Lamplighter clearly heard the insult, Haze decided. The man had a rather strong frown on his face, the creases and valleys in his complexion dark. His stark white hair caught the light and had a glow to it that Haze thought looked like a star.

Haze grimaced. He didn't like that either.

“So, tell me, lad. What's a young fellow like you doin' out at this hour?” The Lamplighter asked over his shoulder, continuing with his task.

Haze crossed his short arms. “Just investigating things. Like the lamps.”

“Beautiful, ain't they?” The Lamplighter grinned, igniting another.

“No.” Haze drifted up to blow one of them out.

“Hey, hey! Mind not doin' that, huh?” The Lamplighter barked, waving his stick as he hobbled over to reignite it. “I've got too many to light as is, 'specially without having to light some twice.”

Haze wrinkled his nose, passing slowly behind the lamp post. “I don't like these at all.”

The old man tipped his head, pausing. “Why ever so?”

“They're for people who are awake. I don't like people being awake.”

The Lamplighter laughed.

“Well, I do! Means people are meeting with friends and working and moving towards their dreams.” He looked down at the rough stones underfoot. “Doesn't seem like anyone ever gets anywhere, though. S'like time doesn't move.”

Haze nodded. “Good. I like it that way.”

“You've got quite an opinion, don't ye, lad? And an odd one at that,” The Lamplighter chuckled.

“Maybe I do,” Haze crossed his arms, umber eyes blazing.

The Lamplighter waved a hand dismissively.

“Whatever you do or think is yer business. Your opinions are yours, and not mine to bother with. Now off with ye.” He flicked his fingers as though brushing away an ant. Haze inhaled, taking in the scent of the burning oil. He then gathered himself like a spring. Straightening quickly, he streaked through the air.

The Lamplighter was left shaking his head as he continued his task.

“Aye, lighting this whole town is going to be nigh impossible with a boy like that blowing them out,” He murmured, scarcely aware he was speaking.

♦ ♦ ♦

Haze paced the steep roof of the clock tower, his body nearly horizontal. He had one hand behind his back and the other under his chin in deep thought.

“He must have been told. But who would have said? Only a handful of them know how to do it...” He stopped short, crinkling his nose. He snapped his fingers and resumed walking at a faster pace. “But of course they would pass it on to him! They want to brighten this town up, after all. This town is so foggy you can't even see the stars most of the time.”

Haze paused to turn his eyes to the sky. As he was expecting, it was still covered with dense mist and clouds.

“Of course he wouldn't like that,” He mused. “He can see us just fine, of course, but he likes to keep it warm.”

The boy drew to a stop. “I can't let all of them wake up though. I just can't.”

Biting his lip, Haze made a decision. Like it or not, he had to keep that old man from his mission. He just had to stop it.

“And maybe,” He whispered, “Just maybe, I'll survive.”