There he stood over his wife who was in a white slip that was now blood stained. She had been asleep on the couch for she hadn't slept well that night. In turn she had curled up in the parlor with a book and had fallen asleep.

He held the bloody knife that matched the seven stab wounds. She had woken up for second at the sign of pain but it was far to late. He erased a pulse that had beat for 34 years in 107 seconds.

Now here she was unmoving and bloody and quite dead. He smiled an unnerving smile the kind that makes skin crawl and kittens hide. Then he left the house knife still in his hand. He was insane and his eyes reflected crazy in them. As if someone ripped sanity out of him.

God sanity was missing. He walked causually acting as if to hold a murder weapon while strolling down a suburban street was oh so normal. He walked at the beat of his heart which was a little fast. He felt thrill and exhilaration. The thoughts of stealing a soul excited him twistedly.

He wore a pair of jeans and a black t shirt. One might wonder how only his hands were bloody as do I. He walked intensely down the street and there was miss Scarlett walking down the street with her little white dog. She wore yoga pants and a gray matching tank. Her signature red lipstick Staind her plump lips. Those lips part and she screamed when the knife cane into view. Freezing like a deer in the headlights.

Her eyes wide and breathing uneven but her feet stuck like glue to the ground on which she stood. She had let go of the leash and the dog ran away. The Little pug seemed to know what was to come. He slit her throat and stabbed her chest once again a smirk played on his lips. As he cut not even a yell left her as he ended her life, just a little gasp. He took her innocent soul like he took his wife's.

He came up to a dumpster where he slid the knife under and he washed his hands at the near by Martin house using the water hose left in the front yard. He was crazily amused by the idea of ending lives. To him it was like it was a fun little game. He walked to the bus stop and sat down on the bench waiting.

Yet was he waiting for the bus or his next victim?