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... revious night as the clouds rumbled and shook the land of Bonelake.

A cloaked figure walked through the streets of the town, a hood covering his face and his body that was getting drenched in the rain. The hooded figure turned his head over his shoulders to see if there was anyone following him. Pulling out a pocket watch, he flipped it open to see the needle that was moving all over the place without settling on a single number that was marked on it. Snapping it close, he continued to wa ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

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