Deadjournal
This is a blog from a serial killer on a mission from hell

I like my present location. Its fun here. Things happening every weekend, little festivals and celebrations. A trolley runs through the center of town. Tons of good looking girls running around. Some stand out more than others, drawing my attention, but this is my temporary home for now, and it would be unwise to mess things up. This town is my coffin used to hide from the harmful rays of the sun and the searching gaze of the law.

That doesn’t mean I cant have fun elsewhere, though.

I saw her a few hours ago as I walked to the market. She was headed down the street, short grey dress and hair so blond it glowed. I wonder if she will ever read this before I get a chance to kill her. My veins were flooded immediately, but I made my way across the street anyway and planned on letting her pass. I couldn’t believe it when she stepped off the sidewalk the same time I did.

I paid and pocketed my change, the whole time watching her subtly as she browsed the potato chip isle. All I needed was another minute or two, so I made small talk with the store owner till she approached the register. When she addressed him by name, I was satisfied and walked off. A regular at this market would either live close by or be catching a train at the station a block away. If she was a local, I would see her around town, so I went with the train possibility and walked that way before she exited the store. I grabbed a free paper from the rack and waited on the metal bench with the best view of the long concrete stairs leading back up to the street.

When she started descending, I immediately took a running mental image of her. She was so poised, so confident in her mannerisms that the illusion of strength surrounded her. Faerie glamour, though. Thats all. I see straight through that shit. Her designer handbag and her large trendy sunglasses, her too short hemline screamed “look at me! Look at me! I need your attention!” I am sure that if I let her talk about herself for more than half an hour, her panties would be off and she would be begging me to tie her wrists with them. The problem is, though, ten minutes into hearing her superficial nonsense I would be biting my lip just to keep from killing her.

I let her board the train without a word, but I gave her a casual smile before she left. I had a target, a time and a place. Now all I needed was patience, a thing I find harder and harder to come by these days.

I know I can’t kill everyone, but man do I want to try.