It was a night almost exactly like before by the Thames. Thick fog clung to the stagnant water and the horrid stench of waste filled the air. Even now, in this day and age with strict controls on the river all sorts of things were found there. The attempt to keep the river clean failed miserably, continually. The night was cold and people’s breath formed above them in great glistening clouds, or rather the few people brave enough to embark upon business on this night were blinded by great billows of steam rising from their lungs. This night however, had one small difference. The moon, which had been whole for both nights and had cast light upon the mist making it shine white light upon the roads last night was a blood moon on the second night. The moon was a glistening shade of red that despite peoples attempts over centuries to change the description of could still only be though of as blood red. That was why so few people ventured out tonight, even those who did not notice the shade of the moon or the swirling red fog on the river felt their hair rise up on their necks and would not dither out on the streets. It was a night of darkness and evil. It was on this evil night, in the darkest hour of midnight that the spirits struck, a man walking beside the river was briefly closed with fog, the fog became denser and if anyone had been there to listen they would heard a muffled thump before the fog surrounding the shadow of the man became darker. An old woman swallowed by darkness in her home. A runner out late for his daily exercise, all swallowed by the darkness. By the end of the hour 2 had become 20 and the river ran with blood of victims taken and slaughtered in one of the darkest rituals, which would make the bodies last longer. No one saw this pool of blood floating down the river but a lone security guard for a rich persons pleasure boat dock. This man saw the slight discolouration just before his eyes closed in slumber, when he woke. He didn’t remember a thing.