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«Quotations, when they remain engraved in our memory, suggest original thoughts; moreover, they awaken in us the desire to read the authors from whom they are taken.».
— Winston Churchill
𝕄 𝕆 ℕ 𝕊 𝕋 𝔼 ℝ
I am like a shadow that wanders in funereal spaces, among gloom that spreads over crumbling floors, among stairs that shatter when I feel the weight of a body on them, among windows that will turn to ashes when I feel the heat of a burning body, tormented by my anger and all that it represents, for that is the legacy I leave to its last breaths.
I, indeed, am a very singular predator, trapped in the body of a benevolent man, inhabitant of a wonderful, dreamy suburb, surrounded by kind and quiet people, who do not know the threats of a stalker, and that very common man, turned at night into a man in a black cassock, with a hat so wide that it covered half of the upper part of his face, allowing my smile to be the last thing my victims would see.
When I was near them, my favorite technique was first to talk about the moment, to begin with, surprising them in the night space. I would mention their loneliness and how insecure they were in such a dark place, I loved it when they smiled at my jokes, that combination of laughter and nervousness in their gaze was what turned me on the most.
I approached them with confidence, some of them tried to escape from my hands, but the edge of my weapons is always accurate and when I grabbed them, I unleashed my devouring fire on their bodies. The blood splashing, the symphony of their bodies creaking as they received each thrust, the gasp of their mouths begging for mercy, a feeling I do not agree with when it comes to satisfying my desires.
After finishing my feat, I contemplate the bodies, reddish, dismembered, with their eyes almost popping out of their sockets. Embraced by death, my only end, to whom I offered the most beautiful works of art.
Again they seek me, the researchers become more and more inexhaustible. We used to amuse ourselves, misleading them with false clues as innocuous as an infant's glance.
When the day came, I again hid behind my second mask, that of a harmless, quiet and isolated man. I watered the garden, I was good with the children and the dogs, I had nothing for them to suspect, but when night came, I became that excited monster, who seeks the blood of the living turned into rivers of tears.
Written by @universoperdido. April 1, 2021.
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