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Damn Chip
By Colleen

When he came to, he had the memory of a flashing knife and a blinding headache. He felt the blood soaking the front of his ripped t-shirt. There had been someone, a young boy. "Your money! Now!" He tried to strike back, but the headache was searing, and there had been the flash of the knife. A boy, pimply teenager, shaking in withdrawl, no older than....

"Dawn!" He pushed himself from the ground. He saw her lying motionless at the foot of the tree. He turned her over. Her neck grinned up at him; an ugly second mouth. "Niblet... Dawn." Cradling her body in his arms, he knew he had lost her. Couldn't protect her.

Why a knife? Why couldn't the boy have used a wooden stake?

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