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| An End of Innocence; Yeah, fancy titles. Closed. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 28 2007, 02:09 PM (241 Views) | |
| Alexander Taylor | Dec 28 2007, 02:09 PM Post #1 |
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Psychotic Werewolf
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The first thing he'd done had been to kill that bloody pony. The horse seemed friendly enough, from what Alexander had sen when observing his target earlier that day, but it stomped its hooves viciously when he entered the stable, snorting and shying away even as he walked across the wall. Animals never had liked Alex, but then, Alex had never particularly liked them. Especially this one--a pink pony. How disgusting. The charmed horn was like adding insult to injuring. This girl obviously thought she lived in a fairy tale world, with her grand Victorian house and her stables and her cheerful sun dress and her grass-green hair. It made 'Xander sick-- but her story book world would all be over soon. It was tempting to gut the horse, to let it die a slow and painful death, and then decorate the walls with its innards. Maybe it would run, and Alexander would let it. It wouldn't get very far, anyways, tripping over its own trailing intestines. It was very tempting, but the horse was not the reason he was here. It wouldn't do to get caught before he'd finished. He settled with slitting the horse's powerful neck, with a single fluid motion of the strong steel knife he'd bought specifically for the occasion. He stood watching the animal as it died, and even after, the red blood spurting like a fountain for minutes afterwards. It pooled on the cold ground, it stained the ridiculous pink coat, it leaked outside into the edges of the stale snow. Bloody snow really had a look unlike anything else, Alexander had decided. He liked it. When the bleeding had subsided, 'Xander picked his way out into the snow, still carrying the spoiled steel knife. From the stable, it wasn't long until he reached the girl's bedroom window, walking backwards and erasing his footsteps with the point of his wand as he did so. When he reached the window he cast a silencing charm on the small area around himself, then broke the lock and slid inside. It was a tight fit, but soon Alex was standing ominously at the side of the girl's bed. He could not have looked more out of place with his surroundings. He was rugged and haggard and unkempt, with slightly sunken eyes and chin-length hair, while she could barely have been sixteen, and her face still shone with the glow of innocence. Her room reeked of it, with the bright plush carpet and the cheerfully painted walls. After casting a glare at a half-hidden stuffed animal, the murderer turned to watch his sleeping victim. It took less than three seconds to plunge the already bloody knife into her chest. It was long enough for her to gasp, and for her pale green eyes to shoot open, but she never saw her killer. Her young heart did not beat much longer. The faint light of the slivered moon outside shone on her eyes, making them gleam like a cat's. Alexander left the knife in her chest, a center point from which a swath of red was slowly overtaking the gentle, light fabric of her sheets. 'Xander turned to look at his victim only once more before he left; as he was standing at the window. The tiny girl lay absolutely still, her wide eyes staring blankly upwards. The killer shrugged, and turned to leave. Let her stare. |
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Were it not better to forget than to remember and regret?
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