Red Streets
“All the good luck in the world doesn’t matter, someone always forgets to lock their window or their door.”
The streets were red as blood with the confetti that the grand party made the night before. Shlan stepped through the mess as it eddied about in the lonely sighing wind, and peered at the locked doors of the houses, bolted fast against the Day After.
Ahead, in the town square, she caught her first sight of the thing. A great creature waited there with eyes like an explosion in the mines, and teeth locked behind lips that perpetually smiled. When it saw her, it chuckled.
“All the good luck in the world doesn’t matter, someone always forgets to lock their window or their door.” It licked its lips.
Shaln shook her head and drew her sword.
“A hero, then?”
She shrugged. “No. Just someone who cares.”
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