Tales From The Dark Side Of The Moon Read Count : 12

Category : Stories

Sub Category : Fantasy

 It starts off in the wilderness. She is bleeding out from all visible orifices.
“Something wicked, definitely, this way comes”, she stiffened.
He just sat there and gave her his most mischievous grin.
And then…
 They changed their faces, hats, positions of power.
In flooded the CONFUSION.
Stanleys, vampires, the dude that lives upstairs OR next door. Your neighbors, family, and friends all lie to you out of love and loyalty, and your own protection,
 “This shield is an extremely heavy burden to carry”, she said.
Ava Adelaide was not yet as jaded as one would have her believe (EVE, the first of the “fallen” women…) She believed in the Still of the Night and in the Power of Love.
And on the nights her head got the best of her, she wrote: MURDER. Or RED RUM, depending on her company.
 “An eye for an eye”. That’s just LIFE.
 Protection under HIS archangel Michael, she insisted she was finally home—in HELL.
 ‘Tis the year of our LORD, 2020 A.D., in fact! Year of beer, viruses, and bitches. Take that however you may.
 To elaborate, in the Still of the Night, there is a North Star that knows ALL. The “all seeing” eye, your third eye, or third star from the right?!
Depending on your company.
Lost boys?
Dying King?
Scorpion King?
Dying stars?
I don’t fucking think so.
We are BELOVED IMMORTAL. Eternal flame.
 No one could possibly understand the amount of love and loyalty breaking down walls actually takes. In our world full of sell-outs, we are ALL whores in one way or another. Most just give up and whore themselves out. Select few can internalize, and our vision of WHORE looks different.
 And we are known as Type O Negatives. The “shadow” people who will look you straight in the face, point blank and tell you when you’re being an asshole.
Yep, my motherfucking Type Of people. Your Negatives of light!
 We are the people who police our own communities when you can’t call the cops. Who can actually call the police for help anymore? All you RICH CRIMINALS??????!!!!!
 We take when we must. And sometimes, we take just for fun. Gotta keep it spicy.
“We sleep when we’re dead”, he Quiet Storm whispered in her ear.
And their wedding date? SAMHEIN of a BLUE moon, harvest moon, in the Year of our Lord, 2020 A.D.
 Ava called that shit early on saying to herself, “That’s mine, even if I have to marry SATAN, himself.”
But Ava’s FATHER loved her as much as all her grandparents did. The first born grandchild on both maternal and fraternal sides. Her lineage was so incredibly rich in LOVE and PAIN that she knew breaking her generational curses would ALMOST kill her.
 And she happily did it anyway. She would do it all over again, each and every time.
Every single time.
Riot in the streets.
Patriarchy burning.
Politicians running scared.
We the motherfucking PEOPLE...
Too many.
We all ARE, have been, and have children to protect.
Ava and Michael looked at one another and smiled, genuinely smiled.
For THEY knew something no one else did…


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