The Blood of a Kin

The Blood of a Kin

The dark sky was dotted with stars. At the forefront of my vision, the moon hung there, silent and unmoving. I looked down at my hands. They were stained with blood. I sighed. The moonlight cast a faint glow on the carnage before me as I lit a cigarette, the dying embers falling to the floor, igniting the place I once called home. Flames flickered as they built into a raging crescendo, howling in the night gale. Another night, another moon. No two are ever the same. My blade glinted in the moonlight, stained by the blood of my kin.