Sometimes at night, Mom and I would lie out in the lawn and look up at the stars. I’d try to guess the constellations. To this day, I can still find most of them. “Every single light represents a person,” she told me. “When that light goes out, it’s gone forever.”
Her light went out two months ago. Cancer. But that’s why I joined the Bureau. To save lights. But it seems that’s getting harder and harder these days. Too many ways for criminals to find their victims. Stalking has become a trend on the internet. Hard to tell who the real ones are and who’s just watching, reading posts. Some days, it seems impossible. Others, like today, it seems pointless.
How do we stop people like this when they’re everywhere? Serial killers. Psychopaths. People who don’t understand what happens when all the lights go out.
Blue Ships Publishing 
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