I steal one glance over my shoulder as soon as we are far from the foreboding luminance of the neon glow, and it is there that my stomach leaps into my throat. Squatting just shy of the light and partially concealed by the shade of an alley is a sinister silhouette beneath a crimson cowl, beaming a demonic smile which spans from cheek to swollen cheek.
Cry no tears for us, my friend. I pry at her fingers, panicking to be released in fear that she may drag me into death with her. She croaks again, Lend no aches to the dreams of yesterday. From the corpse of Warren, his greyish gums smack from whatever goo has settled in his mouth, Allow the tide sweep free the bay. Then together they sing in zombie choir, And home the ships sailing send.
I hate it when storm clouds roll in, heralded by dazzling claps of thunder and lightning that boast an ocean of tears. This majestic performance of bad temper manages to overshadow my pathetic attempts at pouting. No one broods like Mother Nature, hence she steals all the attention I was sulking after.