moonman; demon

Hmm, hmm, that would be the wind I hear blowing inside, yes? It's gearing up to a big ol' storm, is what I'm hearing. Gonna be screaming around in no time.

There's nothing here but red, anyway. Red red red. Red bitches, red cats, all of them. Writhing like the flesh they are. They're all pressing up against me, like they want to be part of me. Little sluts.

This one'll do. Pretty enough, red, red, like all of them. Nothing in their eyes, nothing in this one's either. Just a moving piece of muscle-an'-bone.

I don't wanna hear you talking at me.

The light isn't the right kind, anyway, and they like parting before me, just like they always part their legs before the wind takes them. I should just boil their little bodies, make it easier for them.

This one's whispering and sighing, but I don't wanna hear it. I can't hear it anyway, over the noise. The wind is already pushing her down. They always fall down when the wind gets too strong.

It's howling, and the moon is above. Cold one, that one. Never one for my reach. Still, it makes it the right kind of red, and the smell is about right, too. Offal, just like they are, anyway.

The wind is pressing her to the ground. I hardly ever have to do a thing. I get bored, watching it. It's just the same, same as it always is. Red red red.