(Photo by © Brandon Elijah Scott / Eye & Pen)
It was a dark night in the ancient floating city. The alleys were lit by the full pale moon. Shadows of crooked buildings, rusted iron balconies, and the occasional leafless tree left me in a spooky chill. The shadows seemed to elongate around me, and I doubled my nervous pace. A shutter of thunder in the nearby distance announced the creeping wake of a storm approaching. The clouds, dramatically lit, bunched around the moon like old pals separated by time until this very moment. A blood cast loomed overhead, painting the tops of the buildings with a pallid shade of sinister red. Only the sounds of the skyward rumbling, apart from my feet hitting stone, echoed through each narrow passage, and were joined with a faint scratching and scurrying and fluttering. I was the least bit oblivious in the fact that I was not alone now – there are creatures stirring in the night.
My veins pulsed with each racing gush of my heart beat. The eerie solitude reveled with the shadowy malaise and the direful din, within the darkness, like a sick melody, stealing my reserve. With each unnerving startle, I turned wildly, searching in all directions for the source of the hapless mayhem, that’s sure to be not far behind me. Each fleeting glance was a moment late, as if something had just skulked away, melding into the gloom, beyond my field of vision. The sharp, jagged trees waved ominously in the current, with only the twilight outlining their wicked and slow movements – like a skeleton unearthed, undead, and full of lust for blood.
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