The Artist’s Masterpiece

Wind rustled through the eerie silence that enveloped the dark. The silence of the night was ripped apart by the shrill scream of a terrified soul. A male figure of medium height appeared from the darkness for a split second before he receded back into the shadows.

Crimson dye decorated the alleyway that the cry originated from. It almost complimented the body that was sprawled on the ground with its neck brutally ripped open, if not for the hideous color of green that shrouded the cadaver. The artistry of the scene in no doubt was an accolade for the individual that had led the victim to her gruesome demise.

Her throat had been slashed open with a sharp object possibly a knife and professionally done at that so no blood had splattered on the assailant. Her eyes were gauged out to reveal the inner walls of her skull. Blood had streamed down her face becoming a thick sticky paste of dark red. The letter J and a drawing of which that looked like an eye embellished the walls above her head, no doubt written in her own blood.

The artist had completed his masterpiece and gracefully left the scene taking the victims eyeballs with him. They would be a fine addition for his collection. His thirst quenched but thirst he would again. The euphoria he experienced his first time had befallen him to addiction, never to be relinquished. Exhaustion filled to the core he laid down to rest.

Sleep for now to wake for the dark. He slept.