Barchelorhood

Grandfather knows better

This is truly a mosquitoes slaughterhouse. Blood, blood and more blood. Unfortunately it’s the butcher’s own blood. Hunter turned hunted.
ZZZ the mosquitoes buzz at the break of dusk.

 “Let’s attack him,” they urge each other. “Wait, he is still not asleep,” the younger skinny one complains. “He is never fully sleep. You will starve if you wait for him to,” the father warns…

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