THUMP.

“It’s them again,” Luna hissed, grabbing Reznor’s upper arm.

He glared at the grotesque-styled ring-handle.

“It mightn’t–”

THUMP… THUMP-THUMP.

She scowled into his right ear.

He noticed because his peripheral vision was exceptional; the Sentry’s had to be.

“They’ll never get out!”

“Then why…?”

“Being damned breeds desperation.”

Irish writer Perry McDaid lives in Derry under the brooding brows of Donegal hills which he occasionally hikes in search of druidic inspiration. He even finds it on occasion.