He lept. His mind reached for yours in the dark of the night and only the stars were left to hear your screams. The bright yellow of the new moon turned blood red at the sound of ripping flesh and the smell of burning memories. And the night turned darker than the devil’s soul with every shredded brain vessel and dropped colder with every bone crack. Until all there was was silence. You lay on the sidewalk with lifeless eyes and blood-soaked hair. The crimson liquid matted your hair to your head and bathed it in the smell of tangy rust and sterile bleach. Your back bent forwards, backwards, and to the side; your spine almost poking through the translucent skin at the base of your neck. Your mouth hangs open in shock and despair and the residing pain in your mind. The monster comes closer, lingering over your still body, sniffing the air for the stench of death. It was everywhere; anyone could smell it if they walked within a 2-mile radius of your body. And so could you, visibly from the way you jolted out of death and back into the eyes of hell.