On the eve before All Hallows’ Day, while false demons walked city streets, I watched the black moons rise. Thirteen malignant orbs lifting from inky waters, dragging the ocean with them.
I felt their bleak gravity tug at my soul, ethereal fingers grasping for my secret heart.
Come, they whispered, inviting me to their eternal night.
I confess I teetered, cold temptation planting kisses on my feverish brow, but I held.
I looked to the stars, the distant burning swords of faithful angels standing against the great darkness, and I knew I must not fall. We are too few already.
Author bio: John Xero believes that anyone standing against the darkness is a star.
xeroverse.com | @xeroverse
Burning is part of 101 Fiction issue 13.
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