Children of the Night

Flash Fiction

On leather wings, the city is awake by pale moonlight. Nothing to fear, but fear itself because the last laugh is on the pretty poison the the streets always sell. The underdwellers an another forgotten. To be a clown’s substitute - a grin smirked on its face frozen in two-face. It’s never too late to draw a smile with a batman in your basement. Even if it is ‘40s film noir in drag.

But the heart of ice draws out the cat and the claw, though they see no evil. Even though the grey ghost cries a prophecy of doom, the claw snatches and the cat slashes the feet of clay. But do not underestimate the vendetta that fear of victory grants. It is like a slab of art deco edifice towering down over the haunted streets with an appointment in Crime Alley. The trees have fallen leaves because they have no second chance to deep freeze and lock him up.

Though as mad as a hatter the monster has a dream in the darkness, eternal youth perchance. But the cost is to have a silicon soul. But the monster knows a mechanic who might just do it. But he is stopped, by the shadow of the bat.

I am the night, baby doll.