A Beautiful Night.


    That is what I thought as I strolled through the streets


    Policemen walked around me on their patrols


    The air was crisp and cold


    With only the soothing warm light from streetlamps to counter it


    Leaves fell to the ground with the gentleness of late August winds


    Enchanted by the bright moonlight


    The leaves shined a breathtaking white


    From a moon that hung low in the sky


    Then I saw you.


    You were sat at a public bench in front of the old church graveyard


    Your face looked gaunt and sickly


    Your eyes had nary a thought behind them


    And you wore a black robe


    I thought it odd for a moment


    But I assumed you too were enjoying this delightful night and carried on


    What a dreadful mistake.


    I continued to walk my way home


    Encountering a murder of crows pecking at a dead rodent on my stroll


    I thought it cruel and waved the birds away


    They cawed and flapped their wings at me


    But eventually, they did fly away to look for a new meal


    I should have noticed you.


    Walking past the homes of others enjoying warm meals


    A smile crept upon my face as I thought back to simpler days


    Before the priests had stuck their noses where they did not belong


    Deep into the old caves


    Since then, the whole town has been in a tizzy


    I shook my head.


    No reason to fuel such negative thoughts on a night as this one


    Further into my stroll, a lady of the night propositioned me


    I kept walking for I had no money


    In our brief conversation, she said something that caught my interest


    She made mention of a woman in red


    With blank eyes and a gaunt appearance


    My mind flashed back to you sitting on that park bench


    However, it was only a brief mention


    So I did not think much of it at the time


    Then it began.


    With each step I took, a second step rung out in the air


    When I stopped, they stopped


    I looked around, only not to see anything


    Yet with each step, I heard another


    One which did not belong to me.


    The hairs on my neck began to rise


    I quickened my pace through these poorly lit streets


    I remember it now!


    I nearly ran over a poor old man


    Sitting in front of his home


    He was smoking a pipe that smelled of poppy


    He went to yell.


    But at the sight of me, he averted his eyes


    I tried to get his attention to which he simply walked into his home with a stumble


    Leaving his poppy-filled pipe behind


    I was thoroughly unsettled


    I turned once again and saw a vague glimpse of a woman’s long hair


    The moonlight reflecting off it with a shine


    Right before she vanished into the tall shadows


    No longer simply enjoying a simple walk


    I ran.


    You followed close behind mimicking each step


    The noise grew closer and closer


    Were you close behind?


    I did not dare to leave the streetlights guiding warmth


    For I had believed you feared the light


    A blunder of the highest order!


    Fortuitously, I had found my home


    I slammed my door open and threw it back with the same vigor


    Like a man possessed, I dash to my living room


    On the center table sat a candle lantern


    I lit a match, and it ignited with a brilliant warm light


    Holding it up, I peered through the curtains


    I saw you.


    Standing there on the corner of the street


    Your gaze was as listless as before


    Only now it was facing me directly


    I felt it tugging on my soul


    My sweat ran cold


    I could hear you.


    Even through closed doors


    Your off-tune hums came through


    Almost as if you were right behind me


    I close my curtains.


    And the noise stopped


    Leaving a disturbing silence in its absence


    Unlike the quiet of the city streets


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    I did not allow myself to take any comfort in its cold grasp


    I instead walked up the creaky stairs to my room


    My paranoia was palpable


    With my heart beating out of my chest


    Not a drop of blood went up to my cheeks


    I secured the door behind me with a steamer trunk


    Tucking myself into the corner of my room


    Lantern still in hand


    I prayed it would be sufficient to ward you off


    I remained like this for the next two hours


    Merely watching the moon in the sky to ease my shaken nerves


    My eyes grew heavy.


    There were only a few more hours till sunrise


    Having heard no noise nor having seen a single sight


    I drifted into sleep.


    A slumber in which only nightmares appeared


    In the dream, I was walking toward an invisible spirit


    It was led by a being unlike anything I had ever seen


    It had no eyes


    Only a mouth that split its face into two


    Practically hanging by their chin


    I followed this being for what felt like years


    Through the deserts, the poles, and the forests


    I walked and I walked


    My feet bled yet I could not stop


    Why not, what was I chasing?


    At the top of a bell tower


    My legs collapsed from exhaustion


    I watched as they let loose a laugh that pierced the air like a mighty sword


    Then I awoke.


    Covered in a cold sweat, my lantern still shining


    With little idea of how much time had passed


    All I knew was that it was still night


    It was odd however


    The moon no longer hung low


    It was in the dead center of the sky


    Blinding me with its light


    Even overshadowing the sun itself!


    I heard a lock twist.


    From downstairs, I heard it


    Had you found me once again?


    As an answer to my question, the wooden stairs creak


    With one step and then another


    A dead ringer for a man gasping for breath


    I clutched my lantern.


    Please, I have done no wrong to you


    Leave me be! I shouted


    You pushed my door ever so slightly open.


    The steamer truck was barely a deterrent


    Your face reflected the moon’s brilliant light


    But once it hit your black robe, I saw it morph into a vermilion-red


    With an unnatural arm movement, you forced your way in


    I could hear your joints pop and crack as you did


    I begged.


    Do not come closer


    I screamed.


    Get away from me!


    You did not listen


    Approaching me with your rawboned hands


    Your face for the first time twisted into an expression that I could not decipher


    You held my face.


    In an uncharacteristic tender way


    Your hands were cold but so very comforting


    Like the touch of a dark angel


    With your nails, you drew circles on my cheeks


    I looked into your eyes.


    They were deformed and hideous


    Yet, with each passing second they seemed to transform


    From dull unfeeling eyes to a glimpse of a greater truth


    One uncorrupted by the chill of bone or flesh


    A truth so grand that it repels even the Crimson Parade


    It was overwhelming.


    I felt my mind desperately trying to comprehend each facet of its multilayered meanings


    Then your eyes returned to normal


    Only now they much more closely resemble normal emerald-green eyes


    There was still a hint of their old divinity hidden below the surface


    I felt the fear slip away and embraced your chilling touch


    Slowly, but surely, you inched your fingers closer to my very own eyes


    I did not flinch.


    As you spread my eyelids open


    Using your middle and ring fingers to hold them down in place


    I felt no pain.


    As you inserted your long nails underneath my eyelids


    Only pressure as more of your index and thumb entered


    Scratching the back of my retina


    I felt it writhing.


    My eye socket squirmed at your touch


    Recoiling in a desperate bid to get away


    Like a mound of worms seeking shelter


    I almost dared to speak up


    But I knew better than to interrupt what is your ritual


    I do not know for how long we remained in that position


    All I knew was the feeling of your fingers moving with elegance and grace


    Like a seamstress putting their whole soul into weaving a fine silk


    Once you finally loosened your grip


    I was bathed in the twilight’s pale light


    The world has been changed


    Well at least for me, it was


    A throbbing numbness radiated from my eyes


    But it did not take long until they adapted to your procedure


    Then I saw it.


    Your exposed veins twirling in the air


    With the grace of two ballerinas performing their final show


    From a silt that appeared in your palm


    They dance alone with no blood to be seen as they tie themselves together


    An amazing blue light bounced off them once they met the moons own


    I sat there amazed, basking in its glory


    They ventured back down into the silt


    Pulling out a vermilion robe not unlike yours


    You gave it to me.


    I could’ve wept once I held the fabric in my hand


    Impossibly soft and luxurious


    A gown fit for the kings of yore


    A cloak fit for the aristocrats who choke on their wealth


    With no hesitation, I draped it around my body


    I felt your voice.


    You spoke to me with a voice that has never existed


    A language only known by the elder miners


    You asked me to recount my night


    As you held my earlobes ever so softly


    And so I spoke.


    About the cold crisp air


    The policemen on their patrols


    The falling August leaves


    And of course, the beautiful moon


    Oh, my! What a Beautiful night!


    NEW VICTIM IN THE RIPPER MURDERS


    Oscomin, Sunday, August 27th, 1871.


    Yet another murder of the foulest kind was discovered last night in the early hours of the morning. Howard Phillips, a respected professor and esteemed member of the City’s Cave Research Council, was found dead by his close friend Alfred Chambers. According to Alfred, he had gone to visit his friend during the morning so that they could get breakfast together, only to find his body ripped apart and disfigured. On further analysis by the Oscomin Police Department coroners, they determined that this was consistent with a larger series of murders in the Lower Oscomin area. In which the victim is ripped apart into a bloodied mess with only two features spared from the brutality, those being the lobes of their ears and a pair of bloated eyes. In this particular case, they were both found together on the victim''s bedroom window sill above an unlit lantern, while the body was seemingly irreparably mutilated.


    Howard Phillips was a beacon of light in our community, a talented professor, and a beloved son. With his passing the world has grown to a darker place, our condolences to his friends and family. He shall not be forgotten from both this city and our hearts. His funeral service shall be held in Leogalnee Cemetery, and we ask all our readers to please take great care while traversing the streets at night.