From Forth the Shadows
By Dana Quell

The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the only window in the room, bathing the small apartment in its golden glow. No artificial light was created from the small lamp that sat upon a false mahogany coffeetable- no artificial light would ever again spring forth from that lamp if the man had anything do with it. And indeed he did, for the small apartment and everything illuminated within it by the golden sunbeams belonged to him.

His name was David Broeder and he was currently under the impression that everyone and everything was out to get him- including the late afternoon sunbeams that presently invaded his apartment. He scowled at them, hoping that would be enough to make them leave, but when they didn't, he angrily jerked himself off his second-hand couch and snapped the venetian blinds shut. Even then, the obstinate sunlight found ways to slip between the horizontal flaps and dance around in a golden pattern on the opposite wall.

He wasn't truly angry at the sunlight; after all, he recognized that it couldn't help where it landed. He just wished it wouldn't land anywhere near him. For a moment he thought about moving up north, to a place where the sun didn't shine for at least six months. However, as soon as he had thought about it, he thought better. He had never liked the cold, and moving someplace even colder wouldn't be affable.