Jack. Yes, this time I shall call myself Jack.
The cold night air has rejuvinated me. The Warmbloods have failed, temporarily, in their attempt to prevent my return.
My time is short, and I shall make it my business this evening to sink my icy fangs into Warmblood hearts. Soon I’ll leave, as I have in the past, and some day this world will be uninhabitable for me. But when the Warmbloods bar that door, I will know they have sealed themselves in their own tomb.
Every week, Rochelle Wisof-Fields hosts Friday Fictinoneers, where the objective is to write a complete story in 100 words or less in response to a photograph. I encourage you to learn more about Friday Fictioneers and view other responses to this week’s prompt.