When the sun allowed the moon to borrow its sky that evening, a man arrived— axe in hand, vengeance in his eyes. Ill intent bloomed from his gaze to the house that would someday tell the tale: that tonight bore witness to a child punished for the sins of his father. All houses are dark until someone screams— so sharp, so painful, so full of trauma. They said he had just returned from a night of joy— a bar that stayed loud as if tomorrow would never come. A black plastic bag by the trash, a strange smell—blood. Wasn’t that… their neighbor? #dark