Of Mornings and Evenings

I guess you could say she was a ray of sunshine. Bright and cheery, she strolls down the lane and tilts her head up to the cloudless blue sky. It was the morning. A smile on her innocent, beautiful face, she waves at the old woman tending to her roses. She greets the child running with a German shepherd.

She was loved by many, at least, this part of her was.

Once the sun sets, after the lights in the windows mimicked the stars in the sky, she heads back home, and she begins her transformation.

Her blue eyes turned pitch-black. Her smile turned into a sardonic grin, teeth all but fangs dripping in venom. She dresses in black, picks up her rucksack, and watched patiently as the lights were turned down. The town was quiet. Perfect, she thinks.

She heads out, knife in her hand.

I guess you could say she was a monster. Terrifying and eerie, she strolls down the lane and tilts her head up to the midnight-black sky. It was the evening. A smile on her deadly, beautiful face, she stalks her victim, darkness her one true friend. 

When you see her in the morning, greet her with a smile and a "hey!". But when you see her at night, run! Run away! Or else you will be the cause of her smile the next day.