Daily Flash Fiction Challenge

Many are called, few are chosen

They asked me, “Did you know the victim?” I did. For a moment I thought about the man. Dour, long-faced and thoroughly unpleasant, he would not be missed. He'd lived in the apartment across from mine for years before I had gotten there. Always quiet, unobtrusive, but somehow unsavory.

The past few days there had been...sounds. Noises which were hard to define, almost a slithering sound, but with a metallic hint behind it. It reminded me of nothing. Always in the middle of the night and not loud enough to wake anyone who was asleep in the building. You only heard it if you were awake, insomnaic. Once or twice, I had thought I heard muttering, distantly, but I could never make out the words.

The policeman stared at me expectantly. “Um, no. I didn't really know him. Don't think anyone really did. Why?”
“Just trying to understand the crime. Pretty gruesome stuff. He was dismembered. We still haven't located the head yet. Gonna need to locate his family if he has any, that is. Sorry to disturb you.”

He turned around and went back into the guy's apartment and as the door opened, I could just see a quick flash of the pentagram on the floor before it closed again.

And the blood...

(221 words)