Watching from windows,
our faces protected by panes,
we hold our breath as they march.
One night, each year,
beasts from fog come in trains
hunting for flesh, fresh with blood.
A house’ll be empty by dawn.
They’re here.
our faces protected by panes,
we hold our breath as they march.
One night, each year,
beasts from fog come in trains
hunting for flesh, fresh with blood.
A house’ll be empty by dawn.
They’re here.
The prompt for the Shapeshifting 13 Challenge #23 at Grammar Ghoul Press is the image below: |