The dark street rose out of the fog. But that was only because of a few street lamps that had not yet blessed the temporal. The shiny gold mist under the cones of light from the lanterns gave the feeling of an hour.
The witching hour. Midnight. Twentyfour o'clock.
There were many names for these twelve towers that now rolled down the street. Twelve long, deep chimes. And with each stroke he put one foot in front of the other.
It was scary to be scared in such familiar surroundings. So often had he passed here, so often had he laughed here, and so often had he felt safe here.
Yes, if the word "was" wasn't ...
After twelve paces after the blows, he stopped. The blows had brought his feet to a house. Now it was no longer a house. More like a ruin. A feeling of curiosity and disgust mixed with horror filled his whole body. As often as he had seen this ruin, so often these feelings came over him.
The place where one of his friends died. He bowed his head. Looked for the sign that he had put there so that his friends would never be forgotten. Many had been immortalized on the sign. They wished the boy who survived good luck. Luck that everyone could use in these moments.
The fog tightened around the house. The cones of light were swallowed more and more by the swirling gray crowd. It got creepier.

His thoughts went to his friends.
Three dead, one of which didn't even have a grave. The other a traitor.
The certainty that there was no one left in this world whom he could trust, who could comfort and help him, the certainty that he had lost everyone, that he would be the last, pierced his heart.
It burned.
And his eyes turned into cloudy and dull empty spaces. He couldn't cry anymore. You couldn't cry for such pain. The tears had run dry. He didn't have any more. So much had happened.

So where are we going?
Where to go to seek help and comfort?

His steps continued. Even if they unconsciously carried him there, he headed for a certain goal.
The cemetery
Where the church stood in the middle of hundreds of graves. Including the grave of two of his friends.
The pebbles crackled under the shoes. Like the log fire that had always burned between them. She always said that the fire gave her security.
The sound reminded him very much of her. The red hair, the green eyes and the gentle, good-natured smile. The voice that had so often brought him out of his grief and sorrow.
Whenever he saw a fire, her face looked out of the flames. And she smiled at him. She always smiled. Even when the others were devastated, she was the strong one and built them up.
If only she were there ...
He would have needed her now ...

Now he turned right. He walked down a row of graves. And the wind brushed his hair. He whispered and whispered reassuring things in his ear.
Yes the wind. It still sounded like it did when he flew through the air on his broom.He said he would feel free and safe up in heaven.
And every time the wind brushed his skin, over the innumerable scars, then he remembered him. The protruding hair, tousled, his hazel-brown eyes that peeked out from behind his glasses and the crooked, graceful grin. The laughter he hadn't heard in ages. The laughter he'd heard and seen every day since he was eleven. What had given him courage and confidence.
And now this laugh was silent. He had never heard it again.
Only sometimes did he imagine that he had heard the laughter out of the wind.
If only he were there ...
He would have needed it ...

He stopped. Slowly something peeled itself out of the fog. The time in which the stone rose out of the mist was long and threatening.
A tombstone now loomed in front of him. A marble stone.
The grave of two of his friends.
His fingers slid over the smooth stone, pushing leaves aside.
A shudder ran through his body. He was standing at the grave of his friends. It was so clear and yet he still didn't seem to get it.
You were dead!
He cocked his head.
Why did they lie there?
Why after such a short time?
Why?
Was he to blame?

He wasn't there then. He hadn't helped them.
It could be seen as guilt. And that's how he saw it too!

He knelt down. The inscription was now at eye level.
He didn't know how often he had seen and read these names and characters.
It felt like a dream to him.
It wasn't real.
It couldn't be like that!

He scratched some moss from his friends' names and wiped dirt off the marble with his sleeve.
Only now did he see the mistletoe that had been placed on the grave as an ornament.
A mistletoe ...
He had always loathed mistletoe.
The girls had always tried to lure him underneath to steal a kiss from him. His black eyes had always searched the blankets for these branches at Christmas time.
Always looking for an ambush.
His black hair always fell on his face, covered his eyes. Only the upturned corners of his mouth had shown the cheerfulness he had always displayed.
The happiness that made him so unique!
You couldn't have had gloomy and sad thoughts when he was around and the corners of his mouth turned up.
And now, whenever he saw mistletoe, he remembered the white sheep of the black family.
Only sometimes did he think he saw those corners of his mouth in a crowd. How wrong he was.
If only he were there ...
He would have needed it ...

He swallowed.
You were dead.
Who should help him now?
Who should understand him now?
Everyone was gone.
He hadn't helped them!
He had let her go to her death alone!
He felt guilty.
And slowly the feeling of bitterness crept into his thoughts.
His breath went faster.
He had to blink.

Where?
Where should he go now?

Tears stole from the now glittering eyes.They slid over the scarred face and, after the journey, dripped onto the branch on the marble grave.

She hurried down the misty street.
The place was unknown to her.
Still she was afraid.
Afraid of finding something she only saw in her worst nightmares.

She didn't know exactly why she was here, but something told her that she would only find him here.
Where else should he go?

Where do you go when you are looking for help and comfort?
To his friends!

What if all friends were dead?
Then you go to their final resting place!

She passed the gate at the entrance to the cemetery. It squeaked on its rusty hinges.
She felt uncomfortable. Fog wasn't a good sign.
And yet something told her that he would be here!

She searched the rows of graves with her eyes.
And finally a tombstone protruded from the fog cockroaches, before which someone was kneeling. Her head sobbing helplessly on her chest. The whole body trembled and she could almost hear the innumerable tears falling to the floor.

Her steps became faster.
She was behind him.

She put her arms around his shoulders and pulled him close.

"They are all t-ot! I have lost them all!" it came to her ear in a choked and hotter voice.
"No. You haven't lost all of them! I'm there for you! Me and what you gave me! We're always there for you! And the others too!" she said soothingly to him and I hugged me tighter and tighter.
"I, I'll see you again and again in de-en things! I can't forget you!"
"They will never leave you. They are always with you! And your memories will always stay with you! You will never lose them if you have them in your heart!" she felt how he relaxed, let himself fall into the embrace,
"You and I are always there for you! You will never be alone!

And you always know where to go! You're not alone! Think about it!
There will be three of us soon! "