Crypts and gravestones.
The pack is near — do you hear their howl?

A boy with star-filled eyes, pure as a drop of sweat on a sheet.
A burned-out poet, his tongue stained with ink.
A tender romantic who carved himself open at night.
All of them are here.

The raven on my shoulder stirred.
In my pocket, I felt the cold key.

Click.

“Join us. Lie down. Close your eyes.”