After another day of thankless protection, the sun finally set, its last remaining rays that had dispelled the darkness relinquishing command of the street to whoever took its place as guardian. Though the stars did attempt to send aid and to watch over the street as the sun took its earned rest, clouds smothered the fires which had hoped to maintain the peace. The moon, the greatest emissary of the night, had been covered in a shroud of ferocious fog that choked the final embers. Now, the street was alone. Isolated. In the complete, undefended dark. Shadows that had once hid under trees or behind buildings now roamed free as dust in a gale, engulfing every corner in its ravenous hunger. The shadows overlapped, vying for position in the battle between light and dark: good and evil. Echoes of silence filled the chasm left by the now hollow street as if all traces of life had fled in a grand exodus. Perhaps they were sheltering, cowering from the oncoming storm of quiet demise. Or maybe they were at rest in a deep slumber, hoping for the distant return of the light come morning. But for the foreseeable future, the darkness was not an occupant but an occupier who controlled the street entirely. Light. Just a flicker of light that appeared and disappeared in an instant of downplayed heroics. The shadows pounced on the ground that had been the stage of the desperate rebellious uprising. Then another. And another again. Miniscule droplets of light came crashing down, mounting like a tsunami of liberation, a force of nature so immense that the shadows had to scream and run, else face the might and majesty of the sun itself. Beams upon beams of reinvigorated light sailing down, expelling the darkness, pouring as if rain had been set alight. A cleansing operation. Goodness prevailing at last. The tyrant ousted; light rethroned as the righteous guardian, allowing the street to bask in unchallenged glory.