Mist and silence rule the streets now that the sun has set and died. A still portrait, deserted, for nobody dares to step outside. It's a rule in town, one by which all families must now abide: if you've children, keep them close, lock your doors and hide.
The air is cold with fear, as guardsmen watch with peeled eyes, and hark with reddened ears, listening for screams or cries. One rings out not an hour past dusk, and they race for the sound on booted feet, but find only a thin red trail, leading down a darkened street. Their captain frowns, remembering the massacre mere weeks past- his duty's clear, but what's honor worth if it makes this night his very last?
He dares not follow, fearing that he too shall meet a painful end, even as guilt wracks his heart, pain for a town he can't defend. A monster hunts for boys and girls, and none now dare to challenge this foe.
Someone, prays the silent town, save us from the Red Pierrot.