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When the Sun meets the Moon 5
When the Sun meets the Moon...
Told in Solé's POV:
"Hey..." Luno poked me in my belly. "Are you awake?" I groaned a little. "Solé..."
"...What?" I mumbled with my eyes closed.
"Never mind..." He said. "Yeah, well... Food's here..." I opened my eyes when I realized I actually was hungry. Luno smiled and shoved a bowl with Pokemon food to me. He stared at me as I started eating, Luno watching me. After a while I couldn't stand it anymore.
"...You know..." I carefully started. "...It's kind of hard to eat when there's someone looking at you all the time..." Luno blushed and looked away a little.
"S-Sorry..." I instantly felt bad.
"No... I-I didn't mean it that way!" I laid my paw on his. He looked back and smiled slightly.
"Ok..." I felt my cheeks becoming a little red. What was wrong with me? I turned my head away, afraid he'd see my blush. I tried to look a little through the corners of my eye. Luno looked to a total different direction.
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
Inspector Wolf The old lady was dead. I could smell it before I even got into the house. The whole place reeked of adrenaline, sweat, fear, copper and steel. He’d dropped her right in her living room. Chopped and chopped until she stopped moving. But I could tell I was getting close. This had been done in a hurry, and the killer didn’t have the time to clean up after himself like he usually did.
Across the room, the phone rang. The shrill sound set my teeth to grinding, but I ignored it. Instead I followed the killer’s bloody footprints into the back bedroom. He’d climbed out the window. If I hurried, I could catch up to him and end this disgusting spree he was on.
Then the answering machine kicked in. “Hi, Gramma! It’s Red. Sorry I’m running late. I kind of lost track of time. But don’t worry. I packed the picnic and I’m heading out the door right now. Love you.”
She’d been expec
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