Behold the black lion. His teeth red, his chin wet, with blood. Glowing embers from the depths of hell, fix on his prey, fix on you. “Your safe. Your ok. Don’t worry,” a rumbling murmuration, rumbles from his throat. His words, that are his unleashed children, are all lies. In an empty field, cold air bites your skin. You have no weapons, and the black lion approaches. In your hand you remember, you have a one way radio. On the other side of it, He is listening. You need not format your words, or regurgitate some ancient chant, just talk.
“Put down the radio,” hisses the black lion, showing the snake tatoo on his silver tongue, “He is not listening! Why would he help a wretched blight like you… Surrender! Surrender to me!”
Your thumb finds the button, waking a red glow. The line is open, as the black lion lunges for your throat…
Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert