ShrineasTri

He'd been robbing since before she was born, before her mother's death. To the graveyards every night, in and out, and weaving among the cold gray tombs and the stones that marked forgotten, failed bodies. It was usual, ritual--always the same. Quiet like a mouse and hope they don't find you. Keep all the variables the same--keep control, always stay in control--know the patterns of things and don't change them--and you'd be fine. Simple, really. A tenet that wasn't hard to come up with and even easier to adhere to, just like drawing that glow from the bodies of the deceased. Then things got out of his control. One night, just one, and it o