It was happening again.
I could hear the strange laughter, disembodied, dancing, echoing through the warehouse. Shadows moved and shifted, darting here and sliding there, giving up no sight other than black. It was happening again, and I was as powerless as the first time. My hands trembled.
I started to cry hot tears. They did little to relieve the chill of the warehouse. Slowly the shadows wrapped around the room, an ever-tightening noose meant just for me. Slowly the circle shrank until only I was left.
Slowly I watched death approach. I couldn't let it end like this. I wouldn't let it end like this. I had escaped the darkness once before. I could do it again. I just had to be brave.
I put the gun to my head and closed my eyes.
Just one more time.
A brief little something for Halloween. I actually rather like the idea. Salvation through death. We'll see if this ever goes anywhere, guys.
Also, two rejections with the manuscript. UGH. All I need is the one "yes," though. Friends (including the lovely Jami Nord) are currently looking over my second book, and I'm writing up my cyberpunk universe.
Keep several irons in the fire, as V.E. Schwab said. It's not bad advice, I have to admit.
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