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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/912588-Silver-in-the-Moonlight
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by Patch Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Other · Adult · #912588
About what really happens to stalkers
She lay on the bed. It was as I had always imagined it to be.

The night was warm, a cool breeze blew in from the balcony door and the smell of the ocean wafted in from outside. She was small, so small compared to me and I could plainly see the fear in her eyes. I ran my fingers along her soft, white skin in an attempt to comfort her, but the fear remained, she shivered at my touch. I couldn't understand her fear. This was what she had wanted; this was what she had worked so hard for.

I noticed her.

I had always noticed her. Watching from the shadows, following at a distance, trying to eavesdrop on my conversations, even going so far as to learn my history. Occasionally we would swap words, but never anything of importance. She thought I paid no attention, but I listened in earnest to her every word, and yes, I listened in on her conversations as well. I could not allow my associates to think I cared for her, they never would have consented to us, but I’m certain they’ll never know. I remember how excited she looked when I approached her and invited her in. She came so eager, so enticed, I couldn't be happier if I had dragged her in by her hair.

I wasted no time. I led her straight to the bed and told her to lie down. So compliant. So innocent. So mine.

She shivered when I tied her down, but did not protest. The anticipation was killing me, I longed to rush, but I knew I had to treasure every moment for it would not come again. I unsheathed my weapon. The sheer size of it alone was enough to terrify her, but I would not let that stop me. The moon shone in through the window and lit up the room. The knife in my hand reflected in its light and I saw her fear heighten as she struggled to free herself from my bonds.

The moon turned her skin a pale ghostly colour, I took my knife and pressed it to her skin, the red liquid poured out onto my hands, turning silver in the moonlight. I penetrated every bit of flesh; there was no skin to be seen. Silver everywhere. I had heard her scream, but she went silent after the sixth or seventh blow. I stripped off and painted myself in the silver. I stood proud in the moonlight, the blood still wet upon my naked flesh.

A living work of art.

That was two years ago, it’s been quite calm since then, but lately I’ve noticed you. You follow me, you watch me and now as I see you in the moonlight.


Now it’s time for some fun...
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