The moon gleaming in the window shines brightly on the floor, the smell of smoke and death is fuming about the shed. A cigarette glows in the distance. A man sits in the corner. As the cigarette gets closer to the man, the sound of dogs is heard. The cigarette stops, the man looks up ad sees it smiling at him. He screams for help, knowing the police are coming. Only one scream. A hatchet gleams in the moonlight, slicing the mans neck. The blood spills beautifully down his mouth, down his neck, and onto his chest. The cigarette is put out on top of his head. The killer grabs the bloody chin and looks into the passing eyes of the man and smiles.
"This is what you deserve," says the soft voice. The man gurgles, trying to get out his last words.
The door of the shed slams open. The man thought wrong, it wasn't the police, but a group of townspeople. The killer slowly looked at them. One of the men in the group holds up his shotgun and points it at the killer. The killer laughs. A second later a shot races in the darkness through the killers head, sending blood and brains splattering the walls, and onto the floor. The man holding the shotgun looks in the shadows and vomits.
"Fuck," he coughs. "It's a slaughter house!"
"She cut them all up!" another squeamishly spits.
"Goddamn."