Full Moon Madness

A dull thud and the glint of a blade under the moonlight turned the place into the stage of a brutal murder. White bits of bone stood out on the black ground and the air was permeated with the ferrous and sweetish smell of blood and flesh. He brought his blood-stained hands to his face, drawing red streaks that went from his eyes to his chin, ephemeral proof of what he had done, a sign that would soon be erased by the water of the pond.

"I did what you asked me ..." he whispered to the full moon. "And now?"