Little Red

Pages of newspapers were blowing all down the street. The front page riddled with reports of him, the killer that wandered the streets of the suburbs of Faversham. The publicity spewing mongrels of the newspapers labelled him ‘The Wolf’ because he struck his victims at night when there is a full moon just like the one tonight. The police had found seven bodies so far, all female, all killed with a deep slice in the throat and decorated with a sliced tear from the vagina upwards to the abdomen. Every murder was clean of evidence, there seemed to be no connection between the women apart from that they were aged seventeen to twenty-four.

Night was aging into morning and the residents of the night before were emerging from the local club doors. Out came a flood of people: some in groups, some in a couple and some even alone. Amongst those alone was a young woman. She had long shoulder length flowing blonde hair that framed her beautifully sculptured face. The lower you looked down her body, the more you noticed that she had had an eventful night: her left shoe was missing, her rosy red dress had a drink stain and it was torn a little at the bottom. She lost her footing while walking out of the club’s double doors on her remaining high heel and staggered out further before she almost fell off the tromboning kerb. She continued walking in a direction she at the time thought was home. As time went on, the flood of clubbers had whittled itself down to just this one woman, she continued walking and occasionally tripped over the rare uneven pavestone.

The drink she had been consuming all the night had got to her head and the world was spinning in-front of her glazed eyes. The weight of her head was switching from left to right so much that she collapsed back onto her arse hitting her back on a lamppost. She stared up towards the lamp light that hung over her head, the light danced for her and seemed to fall and crash onto her face as her head slumped forward. Her eyes focused on a scuff on the remaining shoe on her foot. She wiped it over repeatedly with her finger. The road was quiet. The forest opposite however was not so much. The tree leaves hollowed through the tree tops and rustled against the wind. No animal calls, no voices, nothing. 

The young woman stared into the darkening forest in front of her. Her eyes fixated on one dark shadow of a tree, her gaze was locked. Then just as the lamp light did, the tree moved left to right, spinning, moving closer and closer until it stepped over the foot high fence that bordered the forest. It stopped. The man was decorated in a range of animal skins from squirrels to dogs that were scrappily sewn onto a long coat. The woman pulled herself up onto her feet using the lamppost behind her. Her face then fell full of confusion and terror as the man unsheathed a large knife from inside his sleeve. The woman’s eyes saw the knife and overflowed with fear, her heart beat rose to level thought unattainable. In the panic she fled down the road as fast as she possibly could. The man followed her but did not run but rather walked with pace. He lived for the chase, it excited him.

As she came to the end of the road she realised it was a dead end, and with the man, still wielding the knife, closely behind her she made a haste decision and fled into the forest slightly tripping over the foot high barrier and losing her last remaining shoe. She was past caring. Off she fled into the alien woods and headed off in any direction as fast as she could. Twigs were snapping underneath her bare feet. Stones pierced her skin and helpings of broken glass cut through her toes. The blood was trickling off her foot ever so little. The man was still close behind her but he had picked up a bit more speed so he did not lose her amongst the branches. But the moonlight that shone through the treetops highlighted her bright blonde hair, and the bright red dress she wore did not help either. She ran and she ran. An excruciating pain of cramp in her side forced her to limp with one hand holding it as if she had been stabbed already.

Her body was falling weaker and weaker as she fled from the man who she suspected was ‘The Wolf’ killer that had been terrorising the area. The murky mixture of mud and shit was squelching between her toes as she ran heavily through it, it splashed up her ankles. In the midst of the trees in the distance she saw some lights that belonged to a housing estate. She checked behind her to see if ‘The Wolf’ was still in tow. He was five feet behind her with the knife in hand ready to strike at her; she let out a blood boiling scream for help. Her exhausted breath masked what were presumably cries of begging and pleading. Tears were running down her cheek and into the crevices of her lips leaving rivers of black mascara upon her face. She could taste the salty tears as she helplessly pleaded with the stalking killer.

The lights that seemed far away were getting closer and closer. She mustered up all her energy into her body into running even faster than she was. Her body forgot about the pain in her feet and used them for running that little bit faster. She was running so fast she ran full speed into the wooden barrier that separated the road and forest. Her shin made a bone shivering crunch, her body flew over the barrier and her face skidded along the floor slicing her perfect complexion. The concrete tore her face and smashed her nose, splinters of bone protruded through her soft delicate skin. She laid there with blood pouring out onto her face. Then as if from no-where she threw up onto the floor and onto her once beautiful red dress. If it was not for the alcohol rushing through her body she would not have regained consciousness almost immediately.

She looked back over her shoulder and saw the killer slowly walking towards her and slowly treading over the barrier she had just previously hit. She turned back and crawled her way towards the house immediately in front of her. Crawling through blood and bile she pulled herself to the pathway leading to the recognisable house. The killer playfully watched over her crawling helpless body and he did nothing, he relished in his moment of power.

The young woman got to the door and pulled herself up using the handle to reach for the plain brass knocker. Her fingernails scrapped at the old wood, snapping back as she leant on it for support. As she was about to grab the knocker the killer grabbed her with his full arm around her neck. He pulled her back halfway down the path and with one quick movement he slit her throat. Blood spewed out from her mouth and drowned her mournful cry of pain. The killer laid her on the concrete path and kneeled over her with one leg over her body like she was some cattle slain by a hunter. He looked her up and down as she spat up blood that was filling up her lungs. The blood was drowning her so quickly she was mere seconds away from an inevitable but yet unforeseen death, however the killer was not finished with her yet. He lifted up her dress at the knees and pulled down her underwear just above her kneecaps, he took his knife in hand high and thrust it deep into her vagina. She was dead. The killer gripped his knife firmer in his hand and slowly sliced his knife up her blood drenched clitoris, up her bladder, up through her guts, all the way up until he reached bone. He swayed the knife up for a clean retrieval and then wiped the blade on his animal skin coat. The killer stood up and stepped over her bloody body that was drenching the flower beds with blood until morning.

Dawn had broken. The old woman whose house it was was being comforted by police while coroners came and took the body away for forensic analysis. Her hands were still shaking and the tears were still flooding her wrinkled face. Her heart almost gave in that morning when she opened the front door to see, amongst her flowerbed, her granddaughter’s mutilated body.