Blood Moon

The moon is red with rage. A crime has been committed somewhere, unbeknownst to the world.

The village is struck with terror as the jackal howls on a Blood Moon night.

It is the night of judgment. 

They gather to pray in the Central Square, and beg for mercy.

“Look there, He comes…” yells a child in fear.

A tall figure emerges from the graveyard, swathed in black, but without a sword.

Everybody kneels down other than an old man.

“He has been fooling us for ages. Nobody knows if he is the Archangel or Devil. 

And you will not know till you look within. The power to bless or punish lies within you and continues to torture you. You refuse to acknowledge it, because it’s so much easier to credit an external source for it.”