The night was cool and clear, as the stars gleamed down from the heavens upon the peaceful apartment complex. Each building seemed to be its own "being" with its lined windows with the white trims. Most were dark this time of night only a few scattered lights on here and there making the buildings seem like patchwork quilts.
As peaceful as this place had seemed, such was not the case. The four blocks that made the complex were the home of Drugs, violence, and sometimes death. Each side of the complex had its own "name" The first two blocks coming from the avenue were known as "The Strip." Any drug you could think of was sold from the cross avenue down the street the split those two blocks.
Her home was across the street from there. On what was known as "The Ghost Block." Across from her bedroom window stood the powerhouse, the source of life to the complex and where her side of the complex had gotten its name from.
Legend had it that when the complex was built, a worker had been working on the power lines on the tall chimney like tower of the power house, when he plummeted to his death. The worker's death was labeled a mystery. The coroners had found nothing to cause his death. He was not a drinker or a drug addict, so he had not been under the influence at the time of the accident. What struck the police officers as strange was that the coroners had said it seemed as if he was pushed off the tower, yet at the time of the accident no one had been in the building at all, save for the worker.
The case was closed, being called "unsolved" and people went on with their lives. The legend of the tower lived on for decades as more people stated they saw something on the tower late at night. The girl whose room overlooked the power house had heard this story long ago, in a time when she stayed up late at night frightened because of the tree beside her old building scratching her window. Her old building was next door to the power house.
As the years went by and she grew older, the legend began to die down. The girl was now in her early twenties, and though most had forgotten about the legend, she had not. Night after night the legend plagued her, and night after night she would look out of her window up to the tower to see if she would see anything.
One night she did. A faint blue-white glow coming from the very top of the power house tower. She squinted her eyes and canted her head as she looked up through her barred windowed wondering if her eyes were merely playing tricks on her. She shook her head. It was just a figment of her imagination. Her mother had always told her imagination would be her death one day.
The following night she again looked out the window up to the power house tower, and again she saw the same pale blue-white glow. She pursed her lips thinking this time she would go investigate for herself.
