• The malicious grin was a constant show on his face when blood would splatter on his pure white teeth. He had a black belt that carried his tools of murder. He reached back his arm and grabbed his favorite knife. It was three feet long and would slice into any carcass. He reached for it with the full attention of using it instantly. The bladed weapon easily sliced the neck of some worthless piece of meat. The blood dripped down the neck like a lovely fountain and settled on the wet ground. The man leisurely chopped the dead woman’s head and grabbed it by the scalp and tossed it in a garbage can. He then wiped the blood stained knife with a rag and the rag became drenched. He simply tossed it in with the head. He grabbed the ankle of the scantily clad woman and tossed it in the back of his car. He remembered her slight screams did not faze him. He strapped his knife in his belt and thought of his next kill but he began to think wrong of that, it was natural for him so why should he think different. His views were only selfish. He was afraid that no one would be left to slaughter. His life was meant for slaying. But deep down in his black soul, he knew it was wrong but for his desire to stop killing he would not let it out from its cage. He took off his butcher’s trench coat and flung it on the lifeless body. Under the coat was a black suit and the man appeared to have nice taste. He walked to the front door of his Bentley and pulled the handle and sat down. He then closed the door with great care. He spoke to him self while exhaling,” o.k. now that’s done lets leave this ally.” “Some one might mug me.” He said while laughing to him self. His voice was full of proper etiquette. He turned on the ignition and stepped on the gas pedal and began to drive off.

    He parked at a building that represented him. It was dark, glooming, and near the top of the skyscraper were spikes. It always was raining there and the sun never shined on it. The building was pure malice but it was the best place to work in the city. The man was the ruler of this building. Every one in it was his slave. It was automatic for people to greet the murderer as he entered. He reached the end of the lobby with men and women following him. There were two elevators in the lobby and only two. The first one delivered people to the 59th floor. The second had a DNA lock, which only the man could use. It sent him to the forbidden 60th floor. It was his lair. No one had ever been in it. Only a few have ever been there but no one saw them again. Every one fled when the man would raise his hand. He walked in the elevator with his hands in his pockets. His face was full of confidence. He knew that if he was to go to court for first degree murder he would get away with it. His face looked like it was carved by angels and every women was attracted to him. He always wore a black suit that covered his sleek body. With a snap of his finger any one was at his command. His den did not look like a wealthy business man lived here. The walls were painted black and were cover with pictures of dead bodies. His favorite was the picture of the black dahlia. He was so proud of his father’s work that a shallow tear fell from his face. One side of the floor was plate glass; he had the perfect view over the city. His room was like a cave with pictures and loads of bladed weapons. He thought he was happy. He thought with he would be satisfied with killing every night but he would never be. For the first time in years some one else was waiting in the room for him. The murder spoke,” I’m glad you came, now do you’re-” The man couldn’t finish his sentence with a bullet in his head that ruptured his brain. He fell down dead like the body in his car.