When I think back upon November 16, 2020, my mind’s eye sees a somber midnight grove shrouded in a fog that swirls around the ankles, glowing with an eerie moonlit lambency. There’s a crispness to the nighttime air that nips the cheeks and ears.
Two sets of footsteps dash across the leaf-strewn forest floor, one chasing the other, gaining on the other. Two wraiths amongst the trees, cloaked in gloom. The chasing wraith topples the fleeing one and pounces, pinning it to the ground. A struggle ensues, but the bottom figure is impotent and flailing.
The top figure draws a wooden stake honed to a point from inside his jet-black duster, raises it high above his head, and with two hands slams it through the chest of the subjugated figure.