The Shadow

I was running as fast as a force seven hurricane over the precarious rooftops, the thick fog, the forest of chimneys. Lightfoot followed soon after. ‘This man is a warlock, a necromancer, a murderer,’ I explained as we ran. ‘I swear he was destroyed. This means only one thing: black magic is back in town.
No answer.
I turned.
A trail of ectoplasm led into a nearby tree.
A blue orb hung over the tree:
Lightfoots soul.
A crimson beam was a beacon in the midnight fog.
I ran for my life.
For my country.
For the world.

The Comic Man

Barney: ‘’Run Sylvie’’
Barney: ‘’Don’t look back until were are well away’’
Barney: ‘’He’s a paid assassin’’
Barney: ‘’he will kill anyone in his path of territory’’
Barney: ‘’Keep running ‘’
His laugh lingered in the foggy highland as they ran through shredding thistles
Barney: ‘’Sylvie?’’
He turned, the comic man wasn’t there.
Barney: “sylvie”
Barney: “I will find you”
There was a trail of fresh blood leading to his address
The comic man: “dispose of her body and let it rot”
Barney found Sylvies body two years later
Barney: “I will get my revenge on you”