Back at the Raven, the darkness, the hum, the sweat, the press of bodies innocent in the ways of the night. The happy hunting grounds.
Buy a drink, it will remain untouched but it adds a semblance of humanity to the guise of the hunter.
The dim lights fall lower, the myriad strangers are hushed.
Out of the blackness of the stage…
Here comes the candle to light you to bed!
The spider lights reach to the high ceiling of the club.
Dark Nosferatu chops off your head!
The lights plunge into a sweeping arc, levelling at the shoulder level of the crowd, the lighting engineer changes the filter – the beam drips crimson.
The story unfolds, the story revealed.
How little they know!
The hunger pounds!
© 1990 & 2006 Andrew M Boylan