London falling. The wind is veering round to the south tonight carrying a dark putrid scent. A spectral symptom of alarm that laborious humans can’t even advert. The beast is crawling under their feet. God help us if it blocks that narrow pass which is our only road to life
After a premonitory sunset, dead beat and utterly tired, he doesn’t scream. Not even when the mutt’s had its fill
The vigilante might have had the looks of villain, but there are no traces of human face left… No more guilt, no more remorse
Quiet as a grave out there. No sign of a target, but the invisible ghost knows it won’t take long…
More info: Corpses From Hell
Ghost Photography: Sam Christmas
El Solitario Vigilante: HERE