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escritoireazul“The death dealer comes.”
The darkness and the graveyard of flowers and the twisting path, all are meant to entrance and intrigue, to turn the natural into something supernatural, and she knows better than to fall for such tricks.
Still, her chest is tight.
“There is no true death here.” She laughs, and it sounds like the first crack of broken glass.
“For some.” A light shrug. “For you, it comes. Watch for its sign.”
In the lights, there is something new, and Lucinda’s throat works. She does not recognize it at the time, but she will never forget it, not for all of her days.
