∦∦ sparethebeasts ∦∦
█ ▌✟ ┈┈ Horizons bleed into serrated spires of rigid towers as
one half of a whole stands observant, warden of an
accursed town, hunter of its plague. Night descends
upon curfew-swept streets, distant stars beginning to
dapple
milky hues of royal purples and darkest of
blues. Folk retaining touch with normality barred
their doors, burned smudge sticks of sage or whatever
purifying substances within attainable reach, desperate
in prayer for beating heart to be spared. Remnants of
job hence left to hunters such like two brothers.
Air drapes with a heavy, tense silence, clings to roof
of buildings like mist over lake. The night had begun just
as any other; a bid farewell to mother and grandmother,
a ruffle of hair from wheelchair-bound father, a faithful
lick to the hand from beloved hound, before door was eased
to behind them. Lives beyond were out to be claimed,
victims shown mercy before eternal rest. Present absence
of many a hunter besides average resident mob is enough for
youngest’s bravery to be chipped. Desolation of damp cobblestones
within sight gnaws at his fingers, fingers uneasy on trigger
of pistol.
Hesitant but concerned glace is cast over shoulder, steel metallic
iris searching for reflection in brother’s own.
❝ Any luck? Nothing round here so far. ❞
