On the nights when the sky is as black as ink, the moon is as white as snow; something comes creeping, like fog across the land. On the nights when the stars are hiding away and the creatures of the night cower in silence; something sinister slinks. I can tell you once, and I can tell you twice, but nothing will prepare you for that thing, that creature, that creeps though the night. A heart of stone becomes butter at the sight; a soul of Iron melts to milk at the sight, the sight, of the master of fright, the king of the night.



On a cold winter’s night, with the cold biting at the skin, and the wind screaming in the ears; wandered forth a girl. The sky was as black as ink, and the moon as white as the snow; there was snow on the ground and blood on the snow. The snow burned the bare feet of the girl, and gnawed at her ankles as she stumbled and staggered forward. The stars were hiding away and the creatures of the night cowered in silence. Her eyes were wild and her hair in tangles, her dress was ripped and fear ran though her like electricity though a wire.

“Shut up Grandfather. I’ve have heard this all before. Spare me the death of some poor girl, it’s boring.”

Fear blinded her from her usual senses, if she had not been so afraid she would have noticed the shadow that crept over the snow towards her.

“Grandfather! It isn’t even Halloween! Shut up!”


The king of the night, the master of fright, flew though the darkness…. Young one are you listening to me?

“No!”

“Foolish child! Who do you think you are? Talking to me like that?”

“Grandfather, you have told that same story thousands of times. I know what happens, the king of the night, the master of fright falls in love so wastes away and is swept away by the cold winter wind never to be seen again. Blah blah blah, I know this. For the last time, I'm not a child!”

“No matter how many times I tell you it doesn’t get though that hard head of yours! You must never forget what happens to us if we all in love, never you hear!" My grandfather rants. He has an old, wrinkled face and a nose like a beak, with gigantic nostrils. He has hair coming out of his nose and ears, but not on his head.

“Yeah, yeah I get it. Can I go now?”

“I worry for you child, I worry.” My grandfather pauses and looks me up and down in a concerned way “But you may leave.” I head for the window. Outside the night air is fresh against my skin. Though the darkness I roam, like the restless wind I whistle across the land. I am the queen of the night, the mistress of fight, forever young and beautiful, powerful and perfect, the epitome of evil. I have just one weakness, and that is love. Like all the creatures on the side of the night, my heart only has room for hate and cruelty. If I fall in love I will die. I won’t ever fall in love, I won’t let myself. I don’t buy into all the mush humans kick up a fuss about. I would rather fly with the stars, reach for the moon, catch smoke and fly though forests then fall in love. To fall in love is to give up on everything. To fall in love is to hang your heart on a willow tree and hope the branch doesn’t break, put your money on a horse with three legs, jump of Victoria falls and hope for the best; in a nutshell, to fall in love is the stupidest thing in the world to do. There is someone standing on the hill before me, their body silhouetted, black against the moon, the wind brings me the scent of blood…