Dark Carnival

The Circus grounds were spooky when they were empty.
Only a cold fog dared roll in through the moonlit grounds, a chill entwined in the white.
But it wasn't completely empty.
There was a predator in the mists.


Leo was guilty.
She had just feasted, and was covered in the red legacy of her human meal. She felt like a killer.
She was a killer.

Idle in the thick night fog, on her hands and feet like a hound. She'd never quite accustom to her own animalistic ways, to the ways her disease forced upon her.

Perhaps it was the way the moon's light was caught in the fog, or the way the resulting light shone off the blood on the dishevelled girl, but there was a distinct atmosphere of the wild side of humanity in the air that night.