It was midday and there was a haze in the sky that was similar to the one on the day of his sixth birthday party. He remembers that there was cake and balloons and a clown with a face that seemed permanently happy. His mother wore a pretty purple dress, the one with tiny blue and yellow flowers around the hem and cuffs, and a pair of dainty sandals. She was smiling as she served juice and little triangle-shaped sandwiches to his various friends. His father stood by the barbeque in khaki shorts and a dull yellow shirt, laughing with the other men whilst occasionally turning over burgers and sausages. The skin around his eyes would crease when he grinned at a particular joke. He remembers lying on the freshly mowed lawn with sweet icing sugar and chocolate sauce around his lips and on his fingers. It was sticky so he'd tried wiping his fingers on his jeans because his mother always told him not to. He noticed that the sky wasn't blue, it was a funny grey colour, a little like the tiles in his grandmother's bathroom.
Yes, the sky today was much like the one on that afternoon except today there was no cake or clowns. No dress with embroidered flowers and the scent of cooking clinging to it. No overly sugary taste in his mouth. Today there were only a bench, a slight breeze and an endless number of potential victims for him to choose from. He sat for what seemed like an eternity with dark glasses covering his eyes and a white stick resting against his leg. People would shoot sympathetic looks in his direction, discreetly of course because you aren't meant to notice disability, before scurrying back into their own private world.
It was perfect. His whole idea was perfect.
He was perfect.
But still something wasn't right. None of them would do, he knew, none of them. He began to get angry, why were none of these people right? Was perfection too much to ask for in this little backwards town? He started to wonder if his waiting had all been for nothing when someone caught his eye. Shining blonde hair, a lithe body and an air of confidence.
Yes, this was the one. He was sure of it. This would be the next retched piece of scum he would remove from this earth.
'Breaking news: the body of a young girl was found today with her throat slit, left to rot in an abandoned building. Police believe her to be a previously missing prostitute. They suspect the girl is a victim of the infamous serial killer 'Silver Demon' that has been haunting our streets for more than a decade...'
A/N: I have a huge plan in my head for this but no idea how it'll translate into writing. Gimme some time, I like to make my maniacs believable.
It's been a while since I wrote anything, so it would be appreciated if you'd give me a little feedback on what you like/dislike if possible, cheers.