# Literary Maneuvers December 2022: The Longest Night (1 Viewer)



## Harper J. Cole (Nov 30, 2022)

*Literary Maneuvers December 2022*​The Longest Night​Introduction
December's prompt is seasonally appropriate - at least, in the northern hemisphere. What secrets lurk in the longest night?






650 words max., deadline 23:59 GMT / 18:59 EST, Saturday, 17 December
If you win, you'll get a badge pinned to your profile, plus the chance to enter our Feb 2023 *Grand Fiction Challenge*, which carries cash prizes.

Judging

Our judges include* Vranger, Kegan Thompson, S J Ward* and *Ladyserpentine*. If you'd like to volunteer, please let me know via PM or in the Coffee Shop. If you wish to know more about scoring, take a look at the NEW JUDGING GUIDE which also includes a template to use for your scoring. Please use this template for consistency.

Additional

All entries that wish to retain their first rights should post in the LM WORKSHOP THREAD.

*All anonymous entries will be PMed to myself and please note in the PM whether you want your entry posted in the workshop.*

Please check out our Rules and Policies for extra details on the LM contests.

Everyone is welcome to participate, including judges. A judge's entry will receive a review by their fellow judges, but it will not receive a score, though some judges are happy to let you know their score for you privately. Please refrain from 'like'-ing or 'lol'-ing an entry until the scores are posted.

Judges: If you could send the scores no later than* December 31st,* it will ensure a timely release of results. Much later than that and I will have to post with what I have. Again, please see the Judging Guidelines if you have questions. Following the suggested formatting will be much appreciated, too.


----------



## KeganThompson (Dec 1, 2022)

I volunteer as tribute  
(judging)


----------



## Ibb (Dec 4, 2022)

EDIT: Removed


----------



## rcallaci (Dec 12, 2022)

The Gospel of Judas (650 words)

That darkest of moments when I betrayed my master and friend was the longest, most heartbreaking night of my life, as well as one of my last. I didn’t do it for the thirty pieces of silver or from any disenchantment I had of his ministry. I truly loved the man, and believed fervently in many of his teachings that originated from his own mind. Joshua was a true visionary and a humble, righteous, and loving man. It wasn’t him that I wanted to see fall in ruins or being nailed to the cross; it was that thing, that abomination from hell that possessed and corrupted Joshua’s mind whom I wanted to see neutered and neutralized.

It all started with those damn miracles. Turning water into wine, walking on it, bringing back his friend from the dead. These turned a few heads especially the necromancy. He then started insinuating that he was the Messiah by proclaiming that he was the son of God as well as man. I knew then that an otherworldly entity took possession of him. Up until that point he was just a rabbi and leader of the Essene Order, a spiritual man with a pure heart. Now he was something else. I approached him and asked if he was overtaken by a spirit of otherworldly origins. He smiled, put his hands on my shoulders and said:

“My dear Juda’s, an angel of heaven appeared before me and said that God wanted to be invited into my being from time to time in order for our ministry to spread beyond our congregation. I welcomed him into my bosom and when I did a veil was lifted and I remembered that I was his only begotten son. Rejoice my brother and accept gods’ angels into your heart.”

I inwardly moaned when I heard those words. His eyes had a fanatic’s bent and his demeanor was that of a religious zealot. He was possessed alright but it wasn’t God but the devil himself. I forgot to mention that I was gifted with second sight and able to see auras and spirits of the ethereal world ever since I was a child. At that moment I wished I never had that gift. Rather than confront him I kept silent. I needed to come up with a plan to get Joshua to realize who possessed him and to banish it back to hell.

Needless to say, I came up with the wrong plan.

First off, I tried to convince my fellow acolytes that Joshua was possessed by the devil. But they too drank the cup he offered; letting dark angels run riot with their souls. I was truly alone.

Secondly, I needed to discredit him. Joshua was becoming a sensation amongst the common Jews in the area. Soon he would gain the ears of the Romans, Greeks and beyond. In essence Satan would become the spiritual leader of the known world.

I went into the temple where the pharisees gathered and riled them up further by claiming that Joshua was claiming to be the actual Messiah and God himself. They went ballistic.

The acolyte gospels explained what happened that night but not what Joshua said to me as he was being arrested:

“I should have listened to you; I was possessed by a great evil but he’s gone for now. I fear we were both deceived. Satan has shown me visions of my death and resurrection. His intention is to make me a martyr and a religious icon. A new religion will rise upon my death. A religion where Satan will be its guide. I’ve prayed to God to intercede and forgive my trespasses, but he remains silent.”

I fell on my knees and wept.

I watched him being crucified and knew God did indeed forsake him but Joshua died offering his spirit to him. I did not… I hung myself.


----------



## Louanne Learning (Dec 12, 2022)

*The Universe Unfolds

(645 words)*

The woods at night are mysterious and magical. Feeling at peace, I ambled the moonlit path through the trees with a spry old woman as my companion. An owl hooted and ground litter rustled in a melancholy breeze. Not knowing whether I was leaving or going, I asked the woman, “Where does this path lead?”

She shrugged. “Too soon to say, yet.”

“You don’t know?”

“We don’t make the decision,” she said. “We just give you someplace pleasant to be, while your universe unfolds.”

“According to plan?”

“Oh, there’s no real plan.”

“What about fate?”

“Personal fate? That would require predetermination, and predetermination doesn’t figure into your laws of nature.”

“Destiny?”

She shook her head. “Sorry … Oh, you mortals like to ascribe meaning to random events in your universe, but it all just follows the patterns of cause and effect.”

I blew out my breath. “A recipe for chaos.”

“Chaos has been known to generate some worthwhile things.”

“Like what?”

“Compassion, trust and love.”

“But yet you say it’s all just a crap-shoot.”

“How does that make any of it any less real?”

She had me there. I thought about the chaos that must be filling the hearts and minds of Janie and Ben without me. The woman, as if reading my thoughts, said, “Tell me about your children.”

I smiled. “Janie is fifteen, and Ben, thirteen. They’re good kids. Ben is the artist and Janie’s favourite subject is Math.” My arms ached to hold them. “Tell me, will they be alright—no matter what happens to me?”

“Can’t say anything with certainty. Can’t predict the direction the arrow of time will take—”

“—in my universe.”

“That’s right. At any given moment, countless paths forward are possible, in both dark and light.”

I hoped I had prepared my babies well. “I did my best—”

“I’m sure you did.” She put a comforting hand on my arm. “They discourage us from making predictions, but knowing you, you gave them what they need to go on.”

We arrived to the edge of the woods. The trees gave way to a wide meadow and a fork in the road. Both branches of the path led to mountains in the distance, behind which glorious suns rose.

“Two suns?” I asked.

“Which way are you pulled?”

I looked to the left, and to the right. The vistas looked incredibly similar, and I felt no tension or stress to ‘get it right.’ No matter which way I went, I would be alright, my intuition told me. But hummingbirds batted their wings over the pathway to the left, so I chose that one.

I walked a few steps. The woman did not follow. I stopped and turned around. “You’re not coming?” I asked.

“No, here’s where we part ways.”

I had questions. “This peace I feel—” I paused to savour it, “—can I take it with me?”

She smiled. “You brought it with you. It’s up to you if you have it when you go back.”

“So, I’m going back?”

She nodded. “The effect of your universe has been put in place.”

“Is there—is there any wisdom I should take with me?”

“Live each day as if it were your last.”

She turned about and disappeared into the trees. I walked forward but an exhaustion overcame me and I lay down in the grass. I closed my eyes. When I opened them, I was in a hospital room, my husband’s face over mine. His eyes widened. “You’re back,” he whispered. “Oh God, we thought we lost you. But you’re back … It’s been the longest night.”

“What happened?”

“An accident—”

“I saw hummingbirds.”

“Symbol of good luck.”

The old woman would cast doubt on that. Luck? A construct of the human mind to help us cope with the randomness of our universe.

Isn’t it?


----------



## Arsenex (Dec 13, 2022)

My woods,  friendly, familiar. Towering old growth. They _were_ my kingdom. Titans reaching up two hundred feet.

It was under one of those where I first saw the magnificent thirty-six-point buck. I was dying to tell my friends, but they wouldn’t have believed me, and if they did, I couldn’t allow any of them to bag him.

It was _my_ trophy. _My_ score of a lifetime. A hunter’s dream come true. Still, though, twice I had him in my crosshairs and twice I couldn’t bring myself to pull the trigger. Such beauty. Such power. Such majesty. It was then I realized it was _I_ who was invading _his_ kingdom.

My friends thought it peculiar when I hefted my deer stand over a hundred feet up. It wasn’t something you did. It was something no one did. I had chosen that height so I could best see my treasure when it ambled through my part of the woodland. I had set up the evening before, climbing to my perch and strapping myself in as to not tumble to my death should I fall asleep.

Now dark, awaiting the morn, I stared up at the night sky, clear, full of twinkling stars. It was as if I could reach out and touch them. Peaceful. Benevolent. Nature’s finest. But that world, my fortress, my wondrous haven, changed in an instant.

Streaks of light rained down from the heavens—a light show the best designers could not have imagined. My awe only lasted seconds as those streaks slowed, glowing red as they descended into my woods, strange craft settling on the forest floor, some right beneath my tree.

The first opened, a blue-tinted light streaming from around the silhouette of a being not from this Earth. I checked my rifle, loaded and ready, but I dare not make a move. I was certain that to be seen would be a quick death.

Unnatural creatures gathered, talking gibberish, one pointing and screeching. They had weapons, rifles of their own, only not rifles. Their leader barked a command. The others scrambled off into the woods. I sat, frozen, unknowing of what to do, mesmerized but cowering.

Hours passed before I turned my rifle over, removing the caps from its scope. I peered through, down at the lone being beneath me, the dim light still keeping it mostly in the dark. It watched a display on its forearm, occasionally speaking into what I had to believe was an unseen earpiece.

The creature was thin, a biped, but with scaly skin and knobby protrusions on its hairless head. Not a thing of beauty, or power, or majesty. Terrifying. Sinister. It invaded _my_ kingdom.

I moved my finger close to the trigger. It was dead center, aligned, ready for a thundering piece of lead, jacketed in steel. I marked time, nervous, anxious—it screeched again.

The other creatures skittered through the woods, back to beneath my tree. The last few came in, dragging something along behind them. All were chattering and excited. Through the scope I could see... they had my buck, my trophy, my prize! Anger welled. My finger on the trigger, I took aim at their leader. But I couldn’t squeeze, knowing if I should, it would mean the death of me.

I clenched my jaw as they loaded my stag onto a ship. The doors closed, blue lights faded to slits before disappearing. They lifted, silent, not moving a leaf, drifting up through the branches, vaulting into the heavens as new streaks ascending, poof, gone from existence, leaving me shaken, in fear for my world.

They had stolen my passion, my courage, my security, my soul. Gone was my purpose for coming to the woods, the towering growth now feeling like a prison—I its captive. I shivered, shrinking in cowardice, hiding away. When dawn finally broke over the horizon... I had lived the longest night of my life.


----------



## CyberWar (Dec 14, 2022)

*Fimbulwinter [646 words]*

I can barely feel my hands as I throw in another log in the roaring fire before me.

“Father, I’m so cold…!” Skjalli speaks from the other side of the fireplace, his face all pale and teeth clattering from the cold as he desperately tries to stay warm.

“I know, son,” I respond, squeezing as close to the flames as I can without burning myself, “So am I.”

“I think Tjalfi is dead, and so is cousin Roskva,” Skjalli states after soaking up the heat of fire for a while. He glances over the shoulder, where his brother and cousin, my niece, lie huddled together under a mountain of blankets and animal pelts.

“You should check on them,” I say. Skjalli reluctantly stands up and leaves the circle of warmth around the fire for the corner of our hut where the beds are. I hear him call out to Tjalfi and Roskva as he tries to shake them from their slumber, but to no avail.

My boy returns, shaking his head and wiping tears from his eyes in silence. A mere few paces from the fire, it is already so cold that the tears freeze on his cheeks. The corners of the hut are covered in thick frost. I sigh and say nothing. That was to be expected.

“When the sun rises, we should carry them out to the woods, to the same place as your mother and aunt Helga,” I curtly say.

“Promise me we will bury them well, so the wolves don’t get them!” Skjalli exclaims. I say nothing. He knows as well as I that there is no digging a proper grave in fifteen feet of snow. Besides, as I glance at our dwindling stock of dried meat and salted fish, I fear it is not the wolves I should really be worried about.

“No!” Skjalli exclaims, as if the gods themselves had whispered my thoughts to him, “We are not eating them!”

“You are right, son,” I agree, chasing away such foul thoughts, “We are still people - we do not eat our own. When this blizzard ends, we will bury your brother and cousin, and go hunting!”

We are still people. If only others would remember that as well as my son does. Not two weeks ago, three men came to our hut while I was away looking for firewood. They defiled my wife and my sister Helga before putting them to the sword, and feasted on their flesh in front of their children. No doubt they would have done the same to my sons and niece, were it not for my return. I avenged my wife and sister that day and left the three nithings to the wolves like they deserved, but the harm was done.

“What if the blizzard never ends?” Skjalli asks, “What if this is the end?”

The thought has been troubling me as well. A year without a summer, twilight at noon, famine and wars without number, depravity of men without bound - all signs of the coming Ragnarok, the Twilight of the Gods. I hear the howling of wolves through the blizzard roaring outside. Truly this must be the Wind Time and the Wolf Time of legend.

“Have no fear, my lad!” I try to raise his spirits, “It will, and when it does, we will hear Heimdall blow his horn, and the gods themselves will ride to the fields of Vigrid. We shall see our illustrious ancestors and Allfather himself with our own eyes here in this life - but only if we are brave and carry on, show ourselves worthy.”

“We are worthy. We will carry on,” my son agrees.

That is the best I can hope to hear. Surely Allfather will preserve those strong of will through this longest of nights. I can only pray that he does.

And if not, we will preserve ourselves.


----------



## Harper J. Cole (Dec 15, 2022)

*Time to Let Her Go*
_by Anon_
(649w)

He had waited for hours. She was taking her time. And then more time. Never before had the clock moved so slowly. Marius lit another cigarette. He only smoked when waiting for her. Nothing else made him so nervous. He paced back and forth on a clearing in a remote park. Where the hell was she? It was almost sunrise.

As always, he heard her car, but not her footsteps. One moment there was nothing but thin air above the grass, the next moment Anneke was standing there in the moonlight. Her ability to move without being noticed was uncanny.

"Where have you been?" he shouted.
"I'm sorry, Marius. There were people coming and going, I had to wait." She cast him her small knapsack. Marius put it down and gave her a bundle of banknotes. "Here is your money."
"What do you mean? You don't even know what the stuff is worth."
"It doesn't matter."
"It's all right. I can wait as usual."
"There is no more 'usual', Anneke. This is our last job."

She stared at him with her eyes wide open. Almost trembling, she asked: "Are you going on alone?"
"Don't be ridiculous. You know no one else can sneak in and out unseen and unheard like you."
"And you know no one else can plan like you, see all the security weaknesses... We are a perfect team!" She had to swallow. Her eyes were filling with tears and her lips formed the word 'why?'
"It's become too dangerous. In fact, we can't meet ever again. You'd better return to Belgium and lie low."

Anneke stepped closer and touched his arm. "Marius, please! I really am sorry. You can fine me when I make you wait too long, but you can't send me away. How am I going to live?"
"Don't tell me you haven't saved anything in five years. You can't be so stupid."
"That's not what I meant."

Marius may have been a criminal mastermind, but he had never known what to do with a crying woman. He picked up the knapsack and headed for his car.

Anneke took out a pistol, wiped her tears and aimed at his back. "Marius!" she shouted with determination.
He stopped and turned around.
"My life has no meaning without you. I won't let you just walk away after everything we've been through together."
"Will your life have more meaning when I'm dead?"
Anneke pointed the gun away from him and pulled the trigger. An empty bottle shattered into pieces. She let the gun drop and fell on her knees, sobbing.
Marius turned around and walked away.

#

"Good morning, sir!"
"Good morning, Oliver. What's this? An interrogation transcript?"
"Early this morning, a man named Marius Lennert walked in and claimed he was the Invisible Burglar."
"You don't say!" Chief Christensen leafed through the transcript. "You seem to have believed him."
"Sir, he provided all the details – dates, locations, item descriptions. Everything checks up. It has to be him. Besides, he had last night's take on him, reported stolen only minutes before he arrived."
"And he just came and confessed to everything?"
"He said he was tired of the criminal life."
Christensen snorted. "Now that the Albanian mafia is on his heels, he's suddenly tired, the dirtbag!"
"Well, he is sparing us a lot of work."
"And embarrassment." The chief shook his head pensively. "Five years..."
"His stealing from the Albanians two months ago was a mistake."
"Of course it was a mistake. And now he'd rather be our prisoner than theirs."
"Who wouldn't?"
Christensen reached for the transcript again. "What about his buyers?"
"He refused to name any names. Don't worry, sir, we'll make him talk."
"Well, at least there'll be no more burglaries, now that we have the perpetrator under lock and key." The chief smiled and handed the transcript back to the detective. "Carry on!"


----------



## S J Ward (Dec 15, 2022)

A Shot at Time. (644w) Prompt – The Longest Night



“It’s a little bigger than I was expecting! So what do I do with it?” I ask of the white-coated neurosurgeon.

“Put in the date and the time in the app’ then press confirm. When it tells you to, then inject the nano-liquid into a vein.”

“And that’s it?”

“Pretty much. The app’ will lead you through the whole process.”

“What will happen?”

“Well, it’s still in trial but... we reckon it’ll take an hour or so for the hippocampus to—”

“No! I mean, what will happen to me?”

“I can’t answer that. It’s your past your delving back into. We think it will be lucid, as if you’re there. You’ll be a part of everything that happened to your younger self, the day of your choice—get to re-live it again. Have you a date and time in mind?” He bends forward to look down at me. I check out his slicked-back, blonde hair, thinning on the crown; the horn-rimmed spectacles that seem to enlarge his sky-blue, Aryan eyes. Looking deep into those eyes I think he might feel sorry for me. But he never makes eye-contact—he stares, pupils fixed, at the bridge of my nose, so maybe not. Most of all, I can smell his cologne and I can’t get the feeling out of my head that this guy is really a salesman—playing at being a doctor.

I nod. “Christmas day, back when I was eleven.”

“Great choice. It’s always nice to revisit the good-times, eh?” he says, as he backs away to the door and opens it for me to wheel myself out—my consultation is over.

~~~~~~~~~~~​
That night was the first time I injected the nano-liquid—it wasn’t to be the last. As soon as I earn enough money to pay for the treatment, I return for another dose. And always, I have only one date in mind to travel back to—the twenty-four hours of that Christmas day. Mainly, the long hours of darkness upon that day.

I know my perseverance will pay off eventually—and I’ve known that since I was eleven!

~~~~~~~~~~~​
I awake one morning, swing the bed-sheets back and get out of bed. Just like on any other day, I shit, shower and shave, dress and leave for work. As I walk passed a newspaper-vendor’s stand—en-route—my eyes are drawn to the advertised headline on a placard.

‘Nano-drugs, to travel back through time, trialled!’

Something at the back of my mind niggles that I know about them already! The realization causes me to feel slightly confused. Leaning against a wall outside the railway station to steady myself, I concentrate my efforts to determine how I know.

I picture a Christmas day. _What would I be? Eleven, twelve? _Walking back home in the snow and ice, late at night with my parents. I have a notion to stop, I always knew I had to stop at that particular moment and for a certain length of time, but I don’t know how or why. I hold my parents back, for no other reason than ‘I know I have to’. We stand there for maybe ten seconds. I can still picture the uncertain look upon my mother’s face. _Are you alright, dear? _I can still hear her voice.

The car careered silently, down the icy street and totally out of control. It mounted the kerb not twenty feet ahead of us and continued upon the pavement for a further fifty metres, eventually crashing into a wall. Ten seconds more and we’d have been in its path.

I feel down my legs, reassuringly, as a long-held memory of being a cripple in a wheelchair trips into my imaginings.

_Maybe I had changed the outcome of my life! I’ll never know for certain!_ I shake off my thoughts and enter the station—another normal day.


----------



## axe (Dec 15, 2022)

*Shrouded in Void *
{646 words}


_Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system. At the tone, please record your message.

BEEP_

"Hey Mom, it's Johnny. I promised to tell you the next time I went out alone. I'm going to a new spot I found on BLM land, west of the city. I'll tell you all about it when I get out. Love you!"

Johnny threw his phone in his backpack along with his backup flashlights and water. He slung the pack over his shoulder and walked into the tenebrous mouth of the cave. 

He proceeded to explore every dark path and hole he could find, occasionally dropping glow sticks to mark his trail. After several hours he was beginning to feel like he was going in circles until finally, he came to a long, tight crack that he hadn't explored. He knew he'd never fit with his gear, so he dropped his pack and stripped down to his t-shirt. Turning his feet outward and his head to the side he was able to squeeze in. He just wanted to see what was at the end of the crack, then he'd turn back.

After shimmying for about 50 feet, he reached the end and stepped out with his right foot, but to his shock and horror, it didn't make contact with the ground. As he was falling he tried to grab the edge of the hole but it all happened too fast and before he knew it he was tumbling down into the abyss. 

He slammed into the rocks below and felt a sharp crack in his back. As he began to recover from the shock he became aware that he couldn't move his legs. He then realized he didn't have his pack and was alone with only his headlamp and the multi-tool in his pocket. 

As the hours passed, his headlamp started to become weaker. He tried turning it off several times, but the absolute darkness overwhelmed him. The dim light was the only thing keeping him sane. He concluded from his dying headlamp that it must be getting close to dawn. Finally, the light flickered a few times, then went out. The sun was rising outside, but his night was just beginning.

Time and space were meaningless in the void that was his new reality. It didn't matter if he opened or closed his eyes, or turned his head, it was always the same: black. He spent hours moving his multi-tool in his hands, feeling the cold steel, and opening and closing the tools. He would often linger on the knife blade, thinking about the stories of people seeing a light when they died. At this point, he would do anything to see that light, but he remembered his call to his mom and knew there was hope. He closed the multi-tool and threw it, the sound of it clanking against the stones killing any thoughts he had of a quick end. 

He tried to dwell on good memories, thinking about those he loved, and especially about the light. He remembered family trips to the beach and lying in the warm sunshine, desperately trying to penetrate the darkness with his mind, but he felt himself starting to fade. The memories became confused and thirst and fatigue began overtaking him. Eventually, he wasn't sure what was real anymore and began to wonder if he was already dead. He touched his face and the cold stone around him and believed he was still alive, but barely. As he started to drift out of consciousness he saw the most beautiful thing: light. It was flickering above him, then a beam came down and enveloped him, and squinting, he realized the stories were true. This feeling comforted him as he began surrendering to death. Then he heard the voices: "Down here! He's down here! We're coming, John."


----------



## NajaNoir (Dec 15, 2022)

*Gift Of Blight*​


When the sun rose behind the blotted horizon, Lyle put on his hazmat suit. Supplies were running low and the time to trek through the city's twisted ruins had come. 

While moving through the clouds of dust something crunched under his feet, instantly he stepped back, feeling both revulsion and regret. Few things remained living, he hated causing any harm, even to a bug.

Three years passed since the aura of daylight was replaced with a steady gray and black. Lyle’s mind wandered back to when it all began.

The stranger appeared one night, while many were in bed and fast asleep. Hearing a commotion, Lyle opened the curtain from his tenth story window and watched the scene unfold. 

He was in a carriage hitched to giant beasts. Clad head to toe in a reinforced suit of red and white, save for the goggles, those were pitch black. Underneath the respirator mask his shouts of glee and mirth were clear. 

"May you find joy in this gift of night. Come one, come all, receive your blight."

The stranger dug into the great bag at his side and pulled out what looked like a handful of sand. Then, waving his hand, the particles danced their way into the sky, it was beautiful at first. Soon though, they began changing shape, gathering into thick dark waves and preying upon everything in their path. 

When people outside began convulsing those still unaffected took off for shelter. Suddenly, the stranger looked at Lyle, two deep red beams shining up at him from behind the goggles, everything in his gut told him the man was grinning.

Awoken by the noise, Catherine asked what was happening. He tried to keep her from the window, shouting at her to get their supplies. He’d called her crazy for making them stock up on such things, but never had he been so glad to be wrong.

He raced to the closet, grabbed some masks, and ran back over to his startled wife. "Put this on," he screamed. 

Hearing shouts in the hallway, he wrenched open the door and saw several of his neighbors trying to stop a loved one from going outside.

Defeated, an elderly neighbor slumped down and cried out, "He looked right at us in the window." 

Catherine soon caught his attention, as she too sought the outside. However, he was stronger and able to wrestle her back in. 

Lyle kept her locked up for a year. He had to force feed her, once they turned, only aimless forms remained, like they were scraped raw of everything that made them human. As bodies couldn't go without sustenance forever, after time they all withered away. 

One day, weary of caring for her, Lyle opened the door and let Catherine go free.

He shook those thoughts from his head and moved on through the permanent night. The once busy and cultured city was laid to ruin. He didn't know if it was sorcery or poison that darkened the horizon, only that, when the jolly stranger appeared, the greenery turned to coal and everything else living, soon died. Only their ghastly remains littered the streets.

Off to his right stood the gloomy frame of the old chapel. Once presided over by a priest who always seemed vexed with the state of the money plate. He smiled to himself, Catherine had been fond of that grumpy little man.

Since his suit kept him safe, Lyle took great precautions with it, but he hadn't realized the crunch under his feet was something cutting through and not just a bug. The glimpse of movement that grabbed his attention soon spoke that truth.

She wore his favorite sundress, reaching her delicate fingers out for his. 

Knowing he was a goner the moment he began hallucinating, Lyle took Catherine's hand and walked off with her into the long night.


----------

