Death surrounds him in a perfect circle, following him. His golden eyes so full of malice are always watching, for he is the master of this garden. And I am just his pawn.
And this will be a Frerard, so ya know, you don't like it, you're free to leave.
. . .
The streets of Belleville, New Jersey were all but deserted. Not one car passed, not one shop open. No people walked about, bickering on their cell phones or being dragged by their dog. You could call it a ghost town with no people at all.
No people except two dark figures walking side by side down the main street. One figure was taller than the other, but the shorter one was the one that seemed to call the shots.
"I don't know about this," started the taller one, a nervous tone to its voice that the shorter one didn't recognize. "How will we get him alone?"
"I have it all planned out. Don't worry about it," came the reply from the shorter figure, its voice filled with its usual confidence.
The taller one nodded its head, but was still unsure. "How do you know he's the one?"
The shorter figure shrugged. "There's something about him that I've never seen in anyone else. He's special. We're special. And tonight is the perfect night to put our plan into action," it said, twirling something in its hands.
A cell phone.