There is a boy named Adam, with long abyssal hair and lanky in appearance. He sits there, crouched in the corner of a dead-end alley at midnight, the moon high in the sky above. Blood soaks the ground and the clothes he wears. His hands are raised, gripping at his ears. It’s as if he’s trying to block out something. The hand that’s visible appears to be clutching something.
“She’s coming. HAHAHAHAAAA. Yes, She is coming,” He chuckles to himself.
Police Lieutenant Richard Smith, a mountain of a man, approaches the boy ever so slowly. He holds his hands out in a cautious manner, as you would a wild animal.
“Are you alright, son,” he asks the child.
“Mother’s coming,” the boy replies in an unsteady whisper.
“It’s alright, lad, I’m gonna take care of you.”
Richard, now crouched next to the boy, puts a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder. An unearthly wail leaves the boys lungs as he feels the weight of Richard’s hand. With a sudden lurch back, Richard draws his firearm. As the screech trails off into the night, Adam passes out, falling into the pool of blood. Something falls from the boys grasp as he does.
Richard pears over to inspect the loosed object. To his horror it is a finger. By the size it is that of a small girl. Richard holsters his weapon and lifts the boy out of the blood and carries him back to his squad car, with questions pulsing through his mind.