Page 45 - TheRedSon_PrintInterior_430pp_5.5x8.5_9-22-2019_v1

dreams, deep within my own darkness. So long as she dwelt
in that city of living nightmares, her words carried beyond
her radiant smile, and I was pleased to hear them slice
through the open air.
So many greedy hands and old hungers. What wonderful
gifts have you brought me, sweet brother? I could feel the
heat of her delight. Her blazing smile burned the darkness
around me, searing shadows too foolish to run from fire.
Oh, you silly shades! Shouldn’t you know what grinning
terrors can await you behind closed doors? My dearest
brother’s mind has shadows of its own, and we’ll suffer none
besides. Now, now, there’ll be time enough for playing, and
I’ll be more than thrilled to savor your screams as they pass
betwixt my glittering metal teeth. But now is the time for
hiding, I’m afraid. At my sister’s prompting, my hunter’s
silence poured forth, drowning what remained of the alien
whispers calling out from undead dreams. I slipped from
beneath the scattering pack of shades to find shelter beyond
the gaze of the wicked city.
I quickly found the darkness of an abandoned hospital and
blended into its isolation. Careful not to linger in any one
shadow for too long, I made my way toward the oldest calm.
I could feel the currents of quiet rushing out a stairwell that
descended deep into the innards of the structure. As I moved
to the top of the stairs, I noticed four sets of small, delicate
footprints descending the dust. Clearly, they belonged to the
quartet of women I’d glimpsed earlier.
As I followed the prints, I realized they seemed to
progressively sink further into the dust and grime that lay
heavy and thick upon the steps—as if they had suddenly
become burdened by something heavy. I waded into the
densest currents of gloom, discovering the footprints had
been joined by four sets of handprints. The women had
crawled down the last few steps into the darkness, and then
seemingly disappeared altogether.

48 | Mark Anzalone