The Midnight Guardian

At midnight Halloween, the moon broke through the clouds, and he came out of the forest — faceless, neither man nor tree. Branches had grown up out of his flesh, and his wings were torn skin over bone.

He stood before the moon and opened his hands — not to embrace, but to block the way. His shadow walked ahead of him and reached the other side of the window.

They say close the windows and never speak aloud the name of the one who left. He hears the sound of names. And if you hear his footsteps behind you, don't turn back. Charcoal drawing on cardboard