Night.

Describe the scene brought to mind by following:
            “The wet streets shimmered in the moonlight,
              The neon signs blurred in the rain…”



    Night had fallen quickly, taking with it the façade that was the city in daylight. Gone were the bustling crowds of people. They had been replaced by shadows, shadows and ghosts.
    The rain was falling. The sound of it hitting the ground was curiously loud in the gloom. It blurred the neon signs that were shining. Their unnatural glow mingled with the moonlight, defying the darkness.
    A shape moved as a lone pedestrian slunk around a corner and was briefly illuminated in the moonlight before he disappeared back into the black nothingness, almost a shadow himself.
    Nothing else was stirring, no cars passed, and the street seemed utterly devoid of life.
    There, in the heart of the city at midnight, the darkness seemed solid and alive, battling with the light and winning.
    The rain fell harder, buffeted by the wind. The stars were hidden from view, but the moon shone through a break in the clouds.
    A single bat could be seen, silhouetted against the moon, a living shadow twirling through the dark.
    Everything seemed black; the night had drained the colour from each thing except the neon signs. They, however, seemed out of place, garish even, as though breaking the sacred law of the darkness.
    Night had taken hold, truly, and the city was hers.