Just a thread going no where for now

In the CMS area, people milled towards the bus-stops at the close of work. They felt the first drops from the sky and looked at the sky in a mixture of resignation and nostalgia. There was a heavy
monsoon rain coming. It always brought out the smell of wet earth. It was alien to the concrete jungle of Lagos on most days. Those who moved from the countryside to the city would be reminded of more innocent places. Then came the sadness that accompanies memories of vast farms of fresh, green shoots drinking up the rain. The thoughts of home came uninvited, but they did tend to linger as pleasant distractions from the ugly race they ran every day. It didn't really matter how far
away from Lagos they came from. The smell of rain, of fresh wet earth, was more welcome than the usual smell of urine and the exhaust of diesel-fuel generators. People huddled together under any kind of shelter that they could find before the rain got any heavier. In Lagos, as anyone will tell you, things can get heavier in a minute, so sort you need to yourself out and not get distracted. One of the commuters calmly walked in the rain. The darkened sky seemed to comfort him. A woman was wrestling with her umbrella looked at him with concern. If Lagos was a safer place, she'd have offered to share her umbrella with him. Kindness is often taken to be weakness and it might cost her a phone or a purse. When her umbrella finally blossomed, she jumped back into the street to walk to her bus-stop. When she was directly behind the man she noticed. Something about him made the cold breeze bite harder, closer to the bone. She wasn't sure why until he stopped and turned to face her. He wasn't wet. It seemed the rain understood he wasn't to be touched.
"There are things you are not meant to see. They may not cost you your
life, for life is not just peace of mind, but it determines your quality of
life. Don't remember me. Don't."
And with that, he seemed to become transparent and suddenly he wasn't there anymore. She was too wrung out by work to scream or faint. She'd been in Lagos for too long. She just took his advice and continued to her bus-stop. It was until she got home that she suddenly cried from shock. It was not just what she saw, but who. She had just recognised her late brother. He'd been found dead in his sleep and, for some reason the village elders didn't explain. He was buried very quickly. She knew
he was part of a society that protected the community, but she didn't understand what from, or why. She'd been asking questions and the elders were visibly disturbed. They had no answer to give her. Then one of them, Waniko, called her aside.
"My daughter, the truth is simple, but it is easier seen than said. I promise you that your brother is stronger than I will ever be. To the ordinary eye, he is dead. But there are things in this world that are
not meant to be seen by everyone. It will be explained to you soon. I promise. I do not lie or treat children like fools. Just let it be. I won't let anyone harm you or bother you. Just let this dog continue
sleeping."
She wasn't satisfied with the answer, but no could refuse him because his demands of everyone were few and far between. Even children would do things for him because he would not ask and it would be a shame to them to see him without helping.
Her brother had come to her to tell her that she needn't worry. His life had not ended. He was not sleeping the long sleep. The truth of the matter was beyond her. He actually never died. He had to change his way of life to do what he had to. He had now become a guardian of tremendous power and he needed to be dead to the world so he could join those who help keep it living. Now, he had no family, no scent, no fear, no point of compromise. He was not perfect, but he was beyond the
fallibility of most men. If he could, he'd tell her things that would frighten her instead of assure her. He'd tell her about how the dust of the dark side of the moon feels between the fingers. He'd tell her that the mountains they read about in school were dwarfed by those under the ocean. He'd tell her that he has not been more than a thought away from her since his 'transition'. He would not tell her that he was still mortal. Or that he puts himself in the way of danger to protect the world from things banished to folklore and fairytales. And that those things were more real than the things that men fight and die for like money or wealth or power. He could not tell her that he had killed so many of these natural enemies of man, he was beginning to wonder if his life had been a dream. As she cried into her husband's chest, she knew, intuitively, that her brother was there. He looked at her then
turned away into the darkness of the room and emerged under the rain outside. He looked up and began to climb the rain drops. When he reached a certain height, he noticed he was among many doing the same. They were joining a cloud movement. It was where they would meet. It was there they were told about the Emptiness. It was there they feared a man more than anything.