The Bleeding Season

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Thanks to my left-hand man, John Roux, for always being there. Thanks also to my family for their love and support. And special thanks to Shane Ryan Staley for his friendship, support, and continued belief in me.

I didn’t know it then, but it was impossible to survive the darkest corners of his mind without first surviving the darkest corners of my own. I was headed for the same depths of Hell he had descended to, and though we passed through those flames for different reasons, our journeys are forever entwined. His story cannot be told without also telling mine, and maybe that’s the way it should be. After all, Goodness is a state of grace.

Evil, is a state of mind.

There was a sudden intrusion to the darkness. A brief orange glimmer and the quiet hiss of a lit match faded quickly, leaving behind the scent of sulfur and a single burning ember like a dot on an otherwise murky horizon. I looked back at the silhouette on the bed, the cigarette dangling from her lips; fingers of smoke circling, caressing, and wondered if perhaps this time there was good reason to fear the dark.

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