The moon lowers its head in defeat.
Blood on its white hands,
Mirrored in the ocean below.
How could it have known
That night brings with it shadows?
Dark shadows of death and sorrow.
The night walkers move in silence.
Creeping along the white sand
And through the dark forest.
Night brings its own baggage,
Its own dark clothes and weapons.
Blood glistening from its fangs.
Where can I hide from the night?
The sand leaves my footsteps
And the air holds my scent.
The shadows leave no footsteps.
No sounds or sighs.
Silence walks in its wake.
But I can sense its power.
Like fingers raking through my hair,
Hot breath on the back of my neck.
I’ve reached a dead end.
End House stands before me,
In all its evil and darkness.
I will join the others inside.
We will fight to the death
To rid the town of night’s evil.
OUR GAMES HAVE JUST BEGUN
THE DEAD GAME