Red Moon
Red Moon
Slumped on the seat, his head fell back. He peered blankly upwards.
“Look, Spike. Such a pre’y moon.”
It ‘d been a dull red crescent, and he had brought her a girl with midnight-black hair, selling pure white roses.
“Want a flower for your lady, mister? Only fifty pence.”
She’d ripped the child’s throat out, scattered the petals which blended with fresh-fallen snow.
His smile slipped further from sane, and he exploded forward, tearing the red rose from the plant in front of him. Fingers crushed; he imagined it as the Slayer’s heart.
One way or another, he’d get her.
Slumped on the seat, his head fell back. He peered blankly upwards.
“Look, Spike. Such a pre’y moon.”
It ‘d been a dull red crescent, and he had brought her a girl with midnight-black hair, selling pure white roses.
“Want a flower for your lady, mister? Only fifty pence.”
She’d ripped the child’s throat out, scattered the petals which blended with fresh-fallen snow.
His smile slipped further from sane, and he exploded forward, tearing the red rose from the plant in front of him. Fingers crushed; he imagined it as the Slayer’s heart.
One way or another, he’d get her.