Darkness.

Always so dark.

Enveloped in the mists of time.

No steps are heard

on the cobble floors,

no laughter rings out

across the large, empty rooms.

Webs strewn like confetti

at a wedding of the dead.

The Castle sleeps.

He sleeps.

Waiting. Knowing.

And as the Mother Moon reaches her heights

his bloodshot eyes will open.

He runs his tongue over long teeth

and feels the pain he has known

for centuries.

The hunger.

His hour has arrived.

The lid pushed back as he

springs forwards.

It’s overwhelming,

over-powering

and too exciting.

The thrill of the hunt.

And as he leaps the window ledge

power surges through every fibre.

Tonight.

He knows.

“For tonight,

I will feast”.