There was her uncle, his head peaceful against the pillow, his eyes closed, his breath gentle, and he was no monster with vicious teeth that could gnaw hearts and pierce the skin. For a moment she thought to step out and let him be, but in her left hand she held the freshly cut carnation. She leaned over him and held the flower close to his lips. The carnation wilted between her fingers, each petal curling and shrinking and blackening. She sprang back in horror, and before she could even think to scream she was shoved against the armoire. She dropped the candle and it rolled upon the floor and
...more
