Blood spilt all over the ground as the man stabbed his victim on the waist under the faint moonlight. The man removed his bloody knife from his victim’s body, only to forcefully thrust it once again at the same wounded spot. The rhythm was continued for several more times, until the unfortunate victim fell to his knees. He unhinged his jaws, trying to moan, but not a sound came out, his strength was utterly drained away by the unbearable pain. Pressing his palm on his bleeding wound, slowly, he stopped struggling and collapsed entirely to the ground. The man went motionless; his gasping sound could be heard no more, lying lifelessly with his eyes wide opened on the cold pavement along the stark and desolated streets.
The murderer glared at the deceased body in front of him, at first he made no expression. He looked at his own hands with his soulless eyes, both of them stained with the fresh blood of his newest victim. Staring once again at the corpse he had created, he smirked wickedly. The man wasn’t his first victim, but he was unlucky enough to become the prey of this blood-thirsty murderer.
Criminals aren’t complicated, they always have plans, whether to earn an ill-gotten fortune, or to bring vengeance to the ones they resent. They are all schemers. But this man was no schemer; he was a man without plans. All he wanted was to kill, to watch his victims begging for mercy, to feel blood splattered all over himself and to enjoy the very last moments of his dying victims. Money wasn’t what he wanted; he was a descendant of a fairly rich family and had inherited a substantial amount of fortune from his parents when they passed away. He made no intention to make a fortune by stealing his victims’ money or jewellery, he didn’t even bother looking for their wallets. His life was extremely dull as he was living a luxurious life without any worries, pleasure was what he demand, the pleasure to kill. To him, killing was exciting and satisfying; he could obtain limitless satisfaction that nothing else could give.
The smell of blood gave him excitement, like a powerful vitality booster, making him wanting to search for his next victim. He stripped off an old metal crucifix hanging upon the chest of the dead body and stuffed it into his pocket. To avoid any unnecessary attention or eye-witnesses, he strode away quickly in quiet paces. The blood-stained knife was still in his tightly clench fist as blood was still dripping from the blade that had destroyed a handful of innocent and pitiful souls as he was pacing along the narrow alleyway.
Darkness started to fade away from the starless sky, dawn was slowly approaching, and the murderer knew that his joyful time was almost over. As he was wiping the blood away from his beloved murdering asset with a piece of ragged cloth in his limousine, he heard someone screaming in terror from the adjacent avenue, a wide and evil grin appeared on his face. Without any hesitation, he drove off satisfyingly with his newest prize in his pocket.
The murderer glared at the deceased body in front of him, at first he made no expression. He looked at his own hands with his soulless eyes, both of them stained with the fresh blood of his newest victim. Staring once again at the corpse he had created, he smirked wickedly. The man wasn’t his first victim, but he was unlucky enough to become the prey of this blood-thirsty murderer.
Criminals aren’t complicated, they always have plans, whether to earn an ill-gotten fortune, or to bring vengeance to the ones they resent. They are all schemers. But this man was no schemer; he was a man without plans. All he wanted was to kill, to watch his victims begging for mercy, to feel blood splattered all over himself and to enjoy the very last moments of his dying victims. Money wasn’t what he wanted; he was a descendant of a fairly rich family and had inherited a substantial amount of fortune from his parents when they passed away. He made no intention to make a fortune by stealing his victims’ money or jewellery, he didn’t even bother looking for their wallets. His life was extremely dull as he was living a luxurious life without any worries, pleasure was what he demand, the pleasure to kill. To him, killing was exciting and satisfying; he could obtain limitless satisfaction that nothing else could give.
The smell of blood gave him excitement, like a powerful vitality booster, making him wanting to search for his next victim. He stripped off an old metal crucifix hanging upon the chest of the dead body and stuffed it into his pocket. To avoid any unnecessary attention or eye-witnesses, he strode away quickly in quiet paces. The blood-stained knife was still in his tightly clench fist as blood was still dripping from the blade that had destroyed a handful of innocent and pitiful souls as he was pacing along the narrow alleyway.
Darkness started to fade away from the starless sky, dawn was slowly approaching, and the murderer knew that his joyful time was almost over. As he was wiping the blood away from his beloved murdering asset with a piece of ragged cloth in his limousine, he heard someone screaming in terror from the adjacent avenue, a wide and evil grin appeared on his face. Without any hesitation, he drove off satisfyingly with his newest prize in his pocket.
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