The Devil's in the Details

By Spectral Scribe

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Her eyes shone deep, blood red.

The devil's in the details: he knows, if natural course returns, then ten years down it will return to haunt him.

Ten years of everything (he ever wanted). Ten years, and down descend the hounds, to rip and tear with gnashing, sharpened teeth.

It's a bonus; but it's not enough.

His grave is dug, and down he slides, tipping over. It's a relief: to end, to stop, because I can't do this anymore.

It wouldn't be sacrifice, because it is respite.

Sammy would be the one to pay the price.

For that, he'll live.