[center][b][i]“Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.”[/b]

[url=http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15377]Do not go gentle into that good night By Dylan Thomas[/url][/i][/center]

The flame flickered momentarily then it stopped. The dying candle continued to provide just enough light to illuminate the only occupant in the room. The man crouching in the center of crudely drawn pentagram stared expectantly at the dwindling remains of the candle. The incantation had to work. He had made all the necessary preparations. The blood, the black book, the doll and a strand of hair from his enemy. 

The rivulets of hardening wax kissed the concrete floor forming an ever expanding puddle. With a soft pop the candle extinguished leaving only the scent of burned wick and melted wax. Nothing can be seen in the stifling darkness, but gradually his eyes adjusted, and he could make out the outlines he drew earlier. Cold sweat poured down the pudgy face. The man dropped the voodoo doll he held in his hands. It landed limply on the white chalk drawn edge. There it was again! That spine chilling laughter. [i]Children’s laughter[/i]. There was one, no two, no one, two… [i]them![/i]

“Ring around the Rosie,” said a little girl.

“A pocket full of posies,” crooned a small boy. 

“Ashes,” the little girl continued.

“Ashes.” Both said in union.

Demonic eyes looked straight into his and Isamu screamed as he scrambled backwards. His brain barely registering that the eyes were mismatched. The shadowy being giggled. The corporate executive watched with horror as the eyes pulled themselves further and further apart. Then each eye elongated before splitting into two. Now there were four pairs of eyes staring at him. They circled round him predatorily. 

“And they all fall down…”

The middle aged man began gagging. Cold, bony fingers have wrapped round his throat. Desperately Isamu reached up to pull the hands away. His fingers groped blindly unable to find what was choking him. It didn’t take long before they brushed against the skin of his throat. Static passed through his fingers, and he drew his hands away. [i]Or at least he tried to.[/i] He clawed futilely at his own skin. No matter what he did, his hands won’t let go. [i]They were choking him![/i] The poor wretch threshed about in agony fighting for every breath he could get and then he lay still. The useless hands fell to the ground. 

“Dead.”

The dark outlines of a little girl and a little boy hovered over their latest victim. They seemed to be of the same height and the same age. Their eyes sparkled with ghoulish delight. The boy turned to the girl and she nodded. [i]It was daybreak.[/i] He opened his mouth wide. Her hands pushed his the sides of his mouth further apart distorting it to grotesque proportions. Then she stuck her head in. With a tiny jump on her part and huge swallow on his, the little girl was no more. The little boy then leaped through the closed window and vanished. The windowpane remained intact.