Prologue
Consternation filled the eyes of the trembling boy who stood before the hooded killer. Oh how tragic, isn't it? The boy's grim reaper has come for his dear life. The smiling killer could almost taste the sweet saltiness that flowed down the cheeks of the petrified victim. It was a sight worth gazing at. It was a tale of woe for the boy, but a delectable meal for the killer. The boy's wails and screams were sufficient to fill the smiling killer's ears with pleasure, but the boy's pleading cries for help filled the killer with abhorrence.
Why plea for your life? What good will it do? It was only a matter of time until the boy has met the end of his chapter.
Jeff enclosed the boy in a corner using it as a window of opportunity to strike. He exerted and impaled the kitchen knife into the chest of the victim, ramming it in, leaving a gaping hole of the victim's heart. The smiling killer's grin broadened as the shrieks of agonizing pain and the oozing red substance were fulfilling his never-ending blood lust. He struck the boy repeatedly as the victim coughed and inhaled sharp intakes of air with an excruciating facial and body expression.
"Sweet dreams," he derided as the victim exhaled to his decease.
Jeff scavenged throughout the house as he filled his jeans with loose change that lied around. He noticed a few interesting items, but they weren't as riveting or appealing to the killer. It was then that to his delight he found a pristine hoodie with a white hue. Replacing his tainted hoodie, he lit a match and watched as the flames spread, enveloping the hoodie on the floor. Obviously he didn't intend to leave any evidence behind nor facial identification or recognition of the deceased body, just heaps of ashes, soot and dust.
Jeff pulled his hood up and over his head as he exited the house with a soft, abnormal sigh. He decided to head downtown, taking a shortcut back to the abandoned house in which he settled in, making sure to keep a low profile until then. Now you may ask, how is he going to keep his insanity under control as he passes through hundreds of crowds? He's human, his sanity is still in there, locked up and waiting to be aroused once more.
What lied ahead Jeff were empty roads and sidewalks- a common sight when midnight fell. It was then that Jeff began to ponder about his kill that took place minutes ago. The boy's demise wasn't as satisfying as the others. In fact, slaughtering the victims were a cinch. This left Jeff disgruntled with his last kill for the night once again.
What else did he expect or assume what may occur? Did he expect for the victims to fight back for their life? More importantly are there any victims that are willing to even consider challenging him? He craved for excitement, something exhilarating that sends shivers down his spine. More likely, is there perhaps a being out there that meets his requirements?
Jeff kicked his shoes on the cement of the sidewalk, hands in pockets, as he exhaled, "As if. I doubt it." He gave a slight inward shrug before rambling on, "Unless the victim was inhuman." Jeff dwells on the matter as he rubbed his chin. "Now that would be fun wouldn't it?" he murmured as his slit, distorted smile stretched farther.
The thought of exchanging blows with an inhuman victim lingered through his mind leaving him in utter ecstasy. It irked Jeff knowing that there's no telling when he could encounter such exhilaration or if he had missed a perfect opportunity of a lifetime. But what he didn't know is that his desire for adrenaline rush would occur at any moment.
Note:
For all you murderers out there, have a little treat.
Hydrogen Peroxide - the simplest peroxide and in its pure form is a colorless liquid, slightly more viscous than water. It is also known to dissolve blood.