Mournful cries of the street strays filles the air just as the grandfather clock strikes midnight, It's bongs and chimes echo inside the empty house and at it's last stroke- a signal short scream.
And mixed beautifully with the cacophony of the night is my own laughter filled with maddening glee.
With the last of the human sacrifices smoothly finished, only a short blood ritual stood between me and immortality. And I watch dispassionately as the stooped figure, I call Master, eats his fill of the lovely young maiden I had just killed.
