You were walking to a party. It wasn’t busy out, mostly because there was a sighting of a skeleton with a knife and a target-shaped soul rummaging the streets. No one was in near in your sight, oh well, it’s too late to go back now. You continue, eventually you get stopped by a skeleton with the same red target people said they saw. He walked into a light and you saw his face, ink drooling out of his eyes, and black sockets. He stared with a grin, a knife in a hand and some dust in the other.