The bluenette wasn’t sure what he was doing. He awoke from his slumber only to find himself outside as the rain began to fall. The moon, casting an eerie yellow hue, the streets aligned with coffins. The Dark Hour, but there were no shadows.
No, there wouldn’t been, not for another week. He gazed around, his grey eyes tired. He turned around, thinking he heard footsteps. No, no, that wasn’t possible. Normal people would be inside the coffins. The only people able to operate during the dark hour were his friends, all asleep in their beds, and Strega a group that hasn’t been seen or heard from a few weeks now.
He shook it off, he was very cold looking down, he saw why. He had forgotten his shoes….