Crimsonblaide

It was hot, very hot and a pounding headache had me slipping into the kitchen in search of a cool drink. Opening the fridge I poured myself a glass of cold milk and stood in front of the kitchen window. The moon was hidden behind dark clouds in a starless sky and yet the garden was still cast in a mystically silver glow. A cat prowled the top of the fence but other than that, all was still. A creak on the stairs was my imagination until the guitar, stood outside the kitchen door, crashed to the ground. "Don't turn around." A gruff, menacing voice ordered. I felt the cool metal of a gun pressed against the bare skin on my back. *** Just a n