He smirked as he saw the crimson liquid flow down onto his hands. The knife now deep within her chest, the warm blood flowed out of her. There is something about the color that amuses him. The warmth sends a tingling pleasure across his spine. The smirk extends to a grimace, and he lets out a small chuckle. Her screams have died out; now it is only the silence of death.
He was following her for while, the brunette with eyes as blue as the sea, and are even deeper. Her skin so soft, he wants nothing but to run his hands across it. Her ample bosom heaving with every step she takes, his heart follows its rhythm. A week since he first saw her; he knew then she was to be his next one. He would claim her like he claimed the others; after all he always got what he wanted.
He followed her home; she didn’t notice him. He now knows where she lives. It doesn’t take much time to plan. In fact he usually doesn’t plan. It’s instinctive. He waits not to plan, but merely lets it linger to increase the thrill of the hunt. The pleasure lies not in the capture, though that is a large part of it, but the true pleasure lies in the act of the hunt itself. The tracking, the anticipation, the hiding in the shadows following the prey’s every move. That is all they are to him, prey, trophies to be collected.
Then the fateful day comes, he gets bored of following her; now he wants her, and he will have her. He goes to her house and waits. She comes out, and the chase begins. Like a lioness stretched in the savannah his senses sharpen. The sun sets, signaling that the chase will nearly come to an end. Darkness always provided him with cover. He hides in the shadows now following her every step. Once it is dark enough he announces his presence by stepping into the light behind her and pacing in her direction. This is when they run; he smiles, he loves it when they run.
She looks behind her and sees a dark figure approaches fast. An ominous feeling swells in her stomach and she starts moving faster, he follows likewise. She is running now. He is excited, adrenaline now flowing through his blood he runs after her, allowing her to get a little ahead just to have her think she could get away; he knows she won’t, but that way it’s more exciting. His smile widens now showing his teeth. He can’t help it and starts laughing manically after her. She screams, oh how he loves it when they scream. He laughs harder, pulls out his knife that glistens brightly in the moonlit street. She scream louder, she’s desperate, and he’s closing in. her screams send chills across his body, he is excited now, but he won’t move in for the kill yet; he has to revel in this pleasure. She screams louder; he laughs harder.
She sees an exit to the left and runs into it, she’s not familiar with this neighborhood and the fear has overtaken her mind; she can’t think straight. He knows it’s a dead end, they always run into a dead end. It demeans his hunting skills, but he doesn’t care this is when the climax happens. She runs in only to face a wall. He slows down, walking in behind her. She turns around and screams, he joins her screaming with a howling laugh and walks slowly towards her with the biggest smile on his face. This moment he torments her walking as slowly as possible towards her knife drawn, shimmering as if death is signaling her from the dark. Her horror now is paramount; his eyes widen, it is time.
He won’t rape her. The only pleasure he gets is in the hunt itself, and now it’s time to end it. He closes in; she falls backwards, looks up to him and screams. He grabs her breast with his right hand and stabs with his left, into her heart. He feels her ribs collapsing under the force of his blade, he never misses the heart, not anymore; he’s been practicing, this one will be his masterpiece. He pushes the knife in deeper, his other hand squeezing in unbelievable ecstasy. This is his moment; he lays her down slowly, pushing the knife in till the end. The blood starts to flow; this is why he likes to stab the heart, the blood flows instantly; a warm, gleaming, crimson stream flowing through his fingers. Her soft white skin is now smeared with a deeper shade of burgundy that reflects the moonlight into his eyes, now wide with madness. There is a reason they call it lunacy, the moon just enhances the entire experience; he knows it, he loves the moonlight it just makes his work more poetic.
The struggle stops, it is done. But to him it is not over yet. It is never over till he licks the blade. He pulls out the blood drenched knife from what was once a chest full of life and pleasure; Raises it up in the bright moonlight, turning it to either side admiring the warm blood on the cold steel. He lets out another howling laugh and sticks out his tongue, scarred and hideous; it is a marker of his work. Every time he hunts he has to lick the blade leaving another mark on his tongue. He has a favorite scar, the one going straight down the middle of his tongue, nearly splitting it in two, like the viper he is. He draws the knife closer to his face, eyes widening mixed with a deranged smile. He turns the blade to face his tongue and licks it from bottom to top. His tongue bleeds mixing with her blood now drying on the blade. This union of blood is why he does all this; now she’s part of him, and he is satisfied. He looks down on the body; still beautiful, her dead blue eyes like diamonds glowing in the moonlight. He looks up to the sky and send out a laugh that sounds more like a screech of a thousand cats being killed. He runs off into the darkness tongue sticking out, knife still in hand, and disappears.
The next morning she leaves her house to work. It’s warm outside she’s wearing shorts; her legs seem endless, tanned to a perfect shade of bronze and smooth as fine Chinese silk. There is a bounce in her step, a childlike skip, she loves these sunny days. She crosses the street, bumping into this tall man who seems oddly distracted. She stops and looks up to him, her blonde hair flowing away from her face to show her hazel brown eyes. She smiles politely and apologizes in a hypnotically melodic voice. He seems remote, yet he nods slowly. She walks away, off to work. He turns and looks at her, her feet barely touching the ground, her legs rising to a perfectly shaped behind. His lips curve sideways into a smirk. “let the games begin”