The moon
illuminated the beach in its midnight glow, but the woods looked dark as a
cave. He strolled from the soft sand onto the hard-packed dirt trail, his steps
remaining light, soundless. Yellow eyes stared at him from the brush. A raccoon
chattered then scurried for the nearest tree.
A dog growled from
behind him. “Leave it,” he commanded without turning around, and the growling
ceased.
He rubbed his
hands together. The time had come for another. Goosebumps rose on his arms.
Torture was such a thrill.
The memory of each
woman’s scream vibrated against his skull. The panicked, the hysterical, the
tortured. Every one had sounded so different, but they replayed like a symphony
in his mind until he killed again. His new victim would rise above the others,
drowning out the dead.
He’d chosen women
unaware of their surroundings. Women who were selfish and so consumed by their
own lives that nobody else mattered. He had a list of ten he’d followed at the
park. They walked, or jogged with their pets, ear pods in, music so loud he
could hear it. Some stared into space. If they didn’t have dogs to warn them of
his presence, he’d be able to trail a foot behind and they’d never think to
look back.
He took a deep
breath and pulled the hood of his hunting jacket lower over his face. His
muscles twitched with anticipation and he lengthened his stride. He brushed
branches from his path and moved behind the cover of the trees. Now he waited.
She would come to him.
No comments:
Post a Comment