Perfect.
A little too perfect.
Beneath the magenta sky
hides a deadly presence.
A force of darkness
rising with the cold moon.
To snatch the residents
from their comfortable beds.
Adding them to their collection
of The Dead and gone.
Gone from the light.
Gone from the living.
To dwell in the darkness of night.
Take care to remember,
as you lay your head down to sleep,
that nothing can stay perfect forever.
THE DEAD GAME
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