by Robin Braid

 

“The Countess must die,” the cry went up as the crowd surged forward, “Destroy the demon.”

The flames held aloft illuminated the tree lined roadside. Creatures of the night blinked once in the glow then scurried for sanctuary. I walked among the throng of townsfolk, head hooded and bowed. They did not, could not, know my true heart.

The castle would burn that night. But come sunrise I would be gone and you would be within me, always.

I touched my neck, fingertips traced the marks there. This was your final hour, my love, but it was my new dawn.

 

Robin Braid

Robin Braid writes stories of the mysterious and macabre. A resident of Fife, Scotland, he graduated from Dundee University with a degree in English Literature. When not working in his regular job he can often be found rambling over hills and glens in search of inspiration for further weird tales.

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