Blood as black as snowMature

Darkened lights and drunken laughter as the music beats your eardrums with deafening thumps. The sweet scent of bitter alcohol tickles your sense of smell and the condensated drops on the random glass absorb into your fingerprints. Human beings taking part in their nightly activities, most of which will last until the early sunrise of a new day. Interesting to witness the way in which we as people retreat from the factors that put a burden on our unfulfilled lives. Some have the typical girls’ night out, while others, and possibly the most, intoxicate themselves with flavoured ethanol. Then there is a group of beings looking for lust and lechery with a passion driven companion, a companion who’ll vanish as a pearl vanishes in the ocean. And then there are rare moments, moments filled with a being that steals your attention forever. An individual that stays silently seated in the darkest area of the room, sipping succulently at a colourful drink, secretly observing the seduction between the storyboard walls. Tonight was one of those nights. A few feet away from mine she sat. Soft, long hair of brunette elegance embraced her naked shoulders and half of her material back. Tiny fingers soothingly squeeze the cold cocktail with care. She sweetly kisses the translucent glass, her longing lips tasting the liquid she quietly desires. Envied lashes covered eyes that seemed black as night, and she wore lips that were touched with blood tinted substance. A silver necklace wrapped itself around her vulnerable skin. Her breasts were far from the fake female perfection, but still filled her low-cut, scarlet top flawlessly. Restless legs were covered in black fabric that hugged her curves affectionately. Yes, this young lady was an unintentional temptress, one who had the power to set any man ablaze. 

I took my glass to the wooden bar counter, my intention: to charm the lovely young lady straight into my arms.

“Dr. Williams. Kinda weird to see you on a Thursday evening.” The bubbly blonde said with a delightful smile.

“Good evening Arabelle.” I said politely with a forced smile.

Arabelle was the best bar lady this town ever had. She was the perfect woman in the eyes of most men. Blonde, curls hung on her shoulders that never even felt the material of straps of any kind. She was quite tall, built beautifully and the goddesses blessed her with decoys that were enough to drive any man to slavery. Her golden laughter always caused needed smiles and her outgoing personality had a way of luring people to this somewhat sinful place. But men had a habit of abusing her loving kindness, ripping the poor girl’s heart out every time. I aided her, talked to her, comforted her all after office hours, and I don’t even mind. I cared for her, the way you care for a cute puppy. Her cuteness, not to mention her bustyness, had a way of hypnotizing the mind.

“Need a refill?”

Her words made me crash like a faulty rocket back to Mother Earth.

“Uh yes please Arabelle.”

“The usual?” Her smile was playful and wise.

“Always.” My voice revealed discomfort. What did she know? And why does she have that womanly smile?

“She comes every Thursday evening. Always sits alone at that table drinking her cocktail.”

My face drained to the colour of her exposing top.

“I saw the way you looked at her. Well stared actually. It’s kinda easy to see a man’s fantasies in his eyes. And boy were you having hot fantasies Dr. Williams. Naughty.” She giggled as she winked at me, her green eyes sparkled in the dim light.

“Well . . . uh . . .” I cleared my throat and tried to clear my head of these so called fantasies. Every man has needs, dammit!

“What is she drinking? Make her another please.” I said quickly, my hand fidgeting in my pants as I tried to hide my discomposure.

“Sure thing Doc.” Her laughter still had no end. Women! “Here you go. Enjoy!”

“Thanks.” I slipped a note on the counter. “Keep the change. Please.” I said hastily as I grabbed the drinks and made my way to the temptress. Game face, game face, now!

“Mind if I join your alluring presence?” Words of confident calm came from my lips.

“Sure.” Her eyes were filled with intriguing curiosity.

Her eyes.

Her eyes were a dark brown, a striking brown. Yet something seemed out of place. They seemed to reflect a broken mirror, a broken soul.

Her eyes.

“For you milady.” I touched her ears with my charming presence as I put the drink before her.

“Thanks . . .” She seemed surprised. “And who might you be?”

“Daniel Williams.” My confidence was invincible.

I slowly seated my body across from her own.

“O.K Danny, so what do you do for a living?” Her shyness seemed to have died. Usually women don’t jump to that question so soon. And usually they don’t possess that poise around me.

“Well you see I . . . ” I gave a nervous chuckle. “I’m a psychologist.”

“So your whole life you get to judge people and get paid to hear them cry and sob? That’s so depressing. No wonder you’re drinking whiskey on the rocks.” Her body language was serious, I was left stunned and dumbfounded. I needed to recover from this cunning twist. I was the one in control! I know what will work.

“You have the most beautiful eyes that any man has ever laid his sight upon.”

That had to win her over. I said it in my most passionate voice, and it never had failed me.

Awe glistened in her gorgeous eyes. Victory was mine!

“Wow.” She finally replied, her admiration stroking my ears. This woman is to be mine tonight.

“That was absolute torture. Now I know why you brought me another Margarita. If I was drunk and you were lucky.” She grabbed the drink and like a crashing wave it was gone.

I watched her, speechless, as she got up to leave.

“Only thing you’re picking up is the bill and your ego honey.” She left me with an evil wink, turning around and leaving, leaving me battered and bruised. Never in my life, not even my female patients were this feisty. But even I had to admit, that woman was amazing. Her words, confidence and body language intrigued me. Regret filled my veins like a running tap fills a bath tub. No name. Idiot. She was long term material, and I do want that. Gets lonely sometimes, me, my voice and my shadow




“Ah, our session’s time is up. See you again next Thursday Mr. Peterson.”

“Thank you Doc. What would I do without you?” Probably slit your own wrists. “See you next week Doc.”

The delicate man made his way to the door in a heavy manner. It always seemed that a dark cloud was holding him down. He was in a twisted spiral of depression, a tornado that never died. I saw his saddened face every single Thursday of all the Thursdays. His problems were countless at this point, and nothing in this world can save him from himself. I try to, trying so hard to get into his cloudy little head. He recently found out he had heart cancer. Now the little cloud grew into a storm, a huge storm I have to blow away.

“Ms. Halliwell is ready to see you Doctor. ” Nadia, my receptionist, said merrily in the door.

“Send her in please Nadia.” I tried to smile. Sometimes patients had the ability to depress you more than they were.

I turned my back to the door, placing my novel of Peterson in his one of many files. I heard soft footsteps at the door, small cautious footsteps.

“I’ll be with you now Ms. Halliwell. Please take a seat.” I said with a cheerful voice. Finally I had a new patient, a new challenge, a new being to try and cure.

“I won’t be staying long. Just wanted to see if your ego survived.”

That damned cheeky voice.

I spun around like a confused whirlwind.

Her eyes.

“Good day Danny. How are you? ” Her hands held her hips in a mischievous manner, her mouth formed a playful grin and her body language was over flowing with confidence and sovereign.

This time she was clothed as black as the cold night. She looked sexy in her dark attire.

“Wow.” The only word my voice could create and speak.

A crystal laughter bounced off the quadruplet wall.

“I like speechless men. Puts the woman in the driver’s seat.”

Her hair moved with the tone of her voice, a graceful, smooth movement.

Her eyes, her eyes still remained broken. What I would give to take her in my arms and caress her pain, comfort her sorrow.

“Danny?” She paused for a moment, the ideal sculpture of the perfect imperfect human essence. “Anyway Mr. Silence, we’re going for dinner tonight at Dante’s.”

“W- what?” I stammered. At least it’s a different word than “wow”.

“Y-o-u  a-r-e  t-a-k-i-n-g  m-e  o-u-t  t-o  d-i-n-n-e-r  a-t  D-a-n-t-e’s.”

She sounded like a dying tape recorder, slow and annoying.

“Here.” She put a tiny piece of paper on my desk. “Pick me up at seven.”

I picked the paper up and studied it, surprised by what had been inked upon it.

“It’s co-ordinates.” My stunned voice filled her eardrums.

“I know genius. It’s where I live. Don’t think that I’m going to make it easy for you. Seven.” Her tone emphasized her last word. She smiled a sweet candy cane smile as she spun around and walked away. As if a brick wall stood before her, she stopped in her tracks, and looked slightly towards me. “Evangeline.” The brick wall vanished and so did this enigma of a woman.

“Evangeline. Eva.” I smiled serenely as I took another look at the paper.

“Crazy woman.” I heard my laughter on the inside of my mouth.


She studied the wine list in the way an archaeologist examined an unidentified fossil. The candle light danced against her skin, complementing her succulent beauty. Her lips were coloured in a shade of deep crimson, her eyes shadowed with black powder. A slight curl reflected through the brunette locks, and her second skin was of a deep purple lace and coal cotton. Her feet bore heels with a black shine, her right arm a silver and onyx bracelet. I watched her soft fingers push her strap back up when it slid off her silky skin.

She had me mesmerised, captivated with her every movement.

My eyes would enjoy her sight for hours, already they were addicted to her beauty. My heart addicted to her presence.      

The waiter rudely awoke me from my drifting, dreaming soul.

“May I take your order?” He had a stiff lip, and his charming accent wasn’t charming at all. It sounded like he had burnt his tongue with hot fudge.

“A Margarita and the best whiskey you have. On the rocks.” She smiled sweetly before she turned her eyes towards me.

The waiter made a slight bowing gesture and disappeared into the bar. I was overjoyed when he left. I didn’t feel like sharing Evangeline.

“You’re really beautiful Evangeline.” The words tumbled out of my mouth that seemed to have its own will.

She looked down for a few seconds, her cheeks gaining more colour. “Thank you.” Her words were soft and pure.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” My voice appeared to have a plea hidden in it.

“To be honest, you intrigued me. Well you still do.”

“May I say I feel the same way? The first time I saw you I -”

“Save the cheese of the day for later.” Her smile lightened up her eyes, though they still remained broken and bleeding.


I found my feet on a newly acquainted doorstep. The smell of vanilla and jasmine,

that graced the whole evening with its wonderful scent, was now a stronger aroma where she stood as my reflect. Hours seemed to have passed like mere minutes during our rendezvous. And now here I was, ensuring that she arrives at her home safely, happily.

“I must admit Doctor Daniel, I had a much better time than what I expected I would have.” A bashful expression accompanied her innocent words.

I laughed softly. “I’m glad that I have been of some entertainment.”

“We should do it again. Soon.”

“Of course, of course.” Her words sent my soul into a blissful frenzy.

“Goodnight Daniel.” She took my hand in hers, gently bestowing a squeeze upon it.

“Goodnight Eva. And thank you.”  I felt incomplete when our hands parted touch, even when her tiny fingers were as cold as a winter wind. She embraced me with one last sincere smile before she disappeared into the walls that separated us.


And soon came soon enough. I was drawn into the presence of Evangeline a few times after our first appointment. If I was fortunate enough to be free of any work, and she lucky enough to be free from any possessing inspiration, we would go on another date that I wanted to be endless.

She is an aspired writer, novelist, poet. Never have I read anything that she has penned to paper, but in her aura you could witness her passion.

Our conversations were incessant and fascinating. It always left me with a need for more.

“It’s terrible. It’s like the 20th killing in this past month.” Arabelle was excited in a bitter way.

I took Eva back to Sapphire’s for another date. I haven’t seen her in a week, which happened to feel like a dreadful lifetime. No wonder all vampires go insane at some point of eternity.

“What happened?” I asked calmly when Arabelle made her way to our table.

“Another murder. And it is beyond sick and gruesome.”

“The Shadow Stalker?”

She nodded like a bouncy bobble head.

“What did he do this time?”

“It happened to a twenty-something girl. Her wrists were slit and she was drowned in the basin with her own blood.”

Chills of fear and disgust ran through my spinal column.

“Shadow Stalker?” Eva’s voice broke the conversation with Arabelle.

“Haven’t you heard of him?” Arabelle asked, her eyes surprised with the shocking question.

Eva shook her head once or twice.

“It’s a serial killer.” I explained before Arabelle could exaggerate an answer. “The usual please Arabelle.”

“Sure thing.” She walked in a skipping manner towards the bar.

I turned my attention to Eva again, continuing to explain the story.

“They call him the Shadow Stalker. In the past two months he has killed 36 people. And it is the most brutal murders that the police ever came across. An example is the most recent murder Arabelle just told.”

“Why do they call him The Shadow Stalker?” Fearless but intrigued as she spoke with an inquisitive tone.

“There is absolutely no evidence left at the scene, they have no suspects because the murders can’t be linked in any way, and he vanishes like a shadow left in the dark.”

“Maybe he murders because it’s his passion. Or curse.” Her innocence stung like that of a feeble child.

“Crimes of passion with 36 victims? I highly doubt any passion is involved.”

“What if he feeds off their blood that pours, their screams and pleas that fill his eardrums, the suffering in their eyes. Maybe it satisfies him. Maybe it’s what he lives for. To kill.”

I was startled by her words, they came across too strong, too serious. I covered her cold hand in my own. “Maybe.”

She turned her cheek towards me, the expression in her eyes was difficult to see.

“It’s ok honey.” My whispered words touched her ear.

Faint tears floated in her eyes as she turned her face towards mine. Her head nodded unconsciously.

“Here you guys go.” Two drinks were placed before us, Arabelle’s fingerprints remained on the surfaces for mere moments.

I watched her carefully as she sipped at her Margarita which had seemed to leave a sour taste in her mouth.

Eva and I have never been intimate before, nor have we ever shared a passionate kiss. Closest I got to her affection was an occasional squeeze of the hand or a hug that was felt for a short and sweet period of seconds. And every now and again my cheek got a peck from her luscious, icy lips.

But I always suspected that underneath her feisty shell she hid someone hurt and scared. It was my living to read people, and I had read her more than once.

“Let me take you home Eva.” I said as she finished the last suffering sip of her drink. I hated seeing her upset, hurt. I cared for her deeply, I wanted her to always smile. Smile with her eyes and not her lips.

“I hope you feel better Eva. ” She stood with folded arms on her doorsteps, the silence of stone rested on her lips. Her mouth tried to form a smile but it failed terribly. Slowly she advanced upon me, her wintry arms folding around my torso as she laid her head against my heart. Greedily my arms went around her glass body, holding her tight as time froze like a drop in the winter. Unfortunately we parted after moments of sweet embrace. My ears heard a whisper of what seemed like the word “goodnight” and my eyes saw her disappear through the red door.


My soundless sleep was disturbed by what felt like stalking eyes prowling upon my skin. I rubbed my eyes that were still misty from my blissful slumber, curious to see my imagination playing bizarre tricks on my body again. I turned, lying on my back, my sight fully restored yet my brain still in its position of awaking. But what my eyes witnessed was enough to send an alert through every nerve of my flesh.

There on the edge of my bed those eyes were.

Her eyes.

Carefully they followed every move my muscles made, her expression neutral. Startled by her clothed body on my bed, I slightly jumped up as my lungs gasped for air.

“I packed us a picnic. Get dressed and then we can go.” Her freezing  fingers gently stroked my cheek as a smile was painted on her face. “Hurry, hurry, hurry. ” Her singing voice echoed when she got off my bed and went into the kitchen.

Quickly I made myself get out of my no longer secured bed, forcing myself to go to the bathroom. There he stood, the reflection of a man as white as candyfloss clouds. My heart was pounding on my chest like a locked door. I’m the only one who has keys to my home. I don’t even carry the spare set of keys with me. It’s in my safe at work, and I had my set of keys. How else would I have gotten into my own house last night? How did she get into my house? How long had she been sitting there, simply staring at me?

“Daniel?” I heard her shout from the kitchen.

“Coming Eva.” I said quite loudly, as my shaking hands reached for my toothbrush.

The sun’s rays beamed down on her sculpted face. The shadows of our bodies played hide and seek in the black cotton blanket. Two hours of insane thoughts passed in and out of my head, but I couldn’t collect the courage to ask her.

She was lying on her back, admiring the colourless clouds. Dressed in an outfit that camouflaged the material we were upon, it was only her eyes and lips that stood out.

The silence of serenity was broken into a fallen vase as she asked, “What’s the secret?”

“The secret? What secret?” Again I was astounded by her lifeless expression.

“To life. To happiness.”

“The secret to happiness?” I thought long and hard, searching the files of my head for the perfect answer. “I guess, well in my opinion, the secret to life is to be yourself and be happy with it. You know, being able to live with the reflection you see every day. ”

“That’s the secret to life?”

I nodded once or twice.

“So a killer has the secret to life.”

“What? Eva I-”

“If a killer is happy with whom what he or she is, then that person has the secret of a happy life?”

“I-” I cut myself short. I had no words, nothing to explain what I’d just said.

I felt her eyes travelling my body again. I dreaded to look at those broken, brown eyes, which I felt myself doing exactly.

She sat up, placing her hand on my chest.

“Relax.” she whispered softly, the rapid beat of my heart flowing through her veins.

Her body moved closer against mine as I felt her lips on my own. Finally we embraced in the long awaited kiss, the thoughts that filled my head erased temporarily. I felt her tiny hands on my heated chest, her legs feeling my hands creeping with gentle strokes. Her actions teased and tormented me as she pulled her lips away from my hungry mouth. A sad smile appeared as she turned her sight to the clouds above, a tear of rain falling from her eyes.


“Eva, please!” I pleaded when we got to my home. She was in a silent state, tears pouring from her eyes like an angry rain. “What’s bothering you?”

“I am!” A scream broke through her sobs. She turned her back on me, her eyes in her palms.

“Eva? I don’t understand. Please let me in. I care about you.” Confusion and concern rained in my voice and words.

“Care?! How can you care for me if you don’t even know what I am?!”

The confusion turned into a storm as I looked at her with a mouth filled with questions.

She stormed off to the counter in the kitchen, grabbing a sharp blade from its stand.

“Eva.” I tried to say in a calm voice that flowed like an undisturbed river. “Don’t.”

Her broken eyes seemed dead as she gave me a short glare. The shining silver of the blade cut through her pulse. I gasped and froze as I saw her slice off her own hand. In a few seconds, it was gone. Her hand was separated from her wrist, but something else was wrong. What was supposed to be blood gushing from the self inflicted wound was a puddle of thick, flowing ooze as black as the robe the night wears. Slowly it started to form the phalanges and then the metacarpals. The tissue of her muscle formed right after, finally followed by her icy flesh. Her detached hand disintegrated into nothingness. Some of the black substance oozed from her lips that her teeth sank into to bear the mindless pain.

“I’m a freak.” A whisper came from her torn lips which were healing gradually.

I was shocked into an afterlife, yet I brought myself back from the resting to comfort her.

“No Eva, you aren’t. You’re special.” I walked towards her with my loving words.

She laughed a sickened laugh. “Special? I’m not special! My body heals itself in ridiculous manners! I am inhumane.” Tears spilled from her livened eyes again.

“I still care about you.” I tried to swallow my fearful words. “Evangeline, I love you. And nothing will ever change the way I feel about you, not even the way your body bleeds. ”

“And what is love exactly Daniel? Tell me!”

“Love is a feeling of strong affection between two people, two people who want to be together.”

Puzzled she looked at me, her tears drying like water in the desert sun. She placed the blackened knife on the counter, her eyes locked on mine. I felt her in my arms again, our lips in a furious kiss. Soon after I felt myself between her and the mattress, her soft skin kissing every part of my flesh. Our naked bodies were drowning in the passion of our embrace as the peeping clock counted down the hours of anticipated ecstasy.  


Digital numbers flashed a white 08:56. My hand searched for the body that I shared deep intimacy with.


I sat up, surprised that the bed had been made up on her side. Lipstick words of red graced on my pillow. She, however, had departed.

‘Had to go do something important. Never realized how easy the solution was. Thank you for last night. It was mind blowing for once. Maybe you’ll drop by later. Eva.’

I sank back into the bed, a smile marking my face.

‘Mind blowing.’

I gave a sigh of discreet pleasure. Eva was a woman to love, a woman to keep. Finally we’ve been brought closer by physical love and pleasing.

I went on with my daily routine. Getting dressed, brushing teeth, having breakfast and switching off the TV that had apparently been on the whole time, broadcasting documentaries on chemicals. The whole time somewhat secret and unaccompanied, unwanted replays kept clouding my mind. I needed, longed to see my goddess again.

It’s been hours since I’ve heard from my nectarine. She must be waiting for me to play the fiddle first. And I was willing to play.

I arrived at her friendly doorstep when the hands showed five past eight. I was accompanied with the thorns of a dozen roses as red as Snow White’s death. The doorbell rang seconds after my fingertip left its print on the silver button.


I rang it again, waiting with hastily patience.

Still nothing.

“Eva?” I knocked on the wooden shield. Nothing dared to stir indoors.

My hand reached for the knob and with a heavy turn, the door sprung open to my surprise.

“Eva? Honey?” My words were a low whisper in the lightless room. Finding the welcomed light switch, I helped my eyes before they had to adjust to nocturnal light.

Though it seemed that my eyes were deceiving me already.

A midnight mourning gown covered her skin, yet both were varnished with slight frost. Her hands were neatly forced next to her sides, her eyes shut as if in a blissful dream. A faint smile was carved in her pale face, sapphire lips and nails had an arctic glow against the snow.

It was as if she slept in a deep slumber, but her chest refused to move.

Rose petals came crashing to the floor as I sprinted to her side.

“Eva?!” Panic and fear struck me at once.

A duet of fingers was on her wrist, praying for a pulse.


“No, no, no!” Mutters flew from my mouth.

Around me I saw several syringes resting peacefully, used and forgotten, and a bit further away was a brown bottle.


I dropped the empty bottle to the tiles, shards of brown glass creating a mosaic pattern on the floor.

I grabbed Eva by her frozen shoulders.

“Eva! Please! Why? Eva! How could you? WHY EVA? WHY?!”

I shook her repeatedly with a soft violence.

Shaking, shaking, shaking, crash . . .

Her left arm broke off by the elbow, frozen flesh cracking as it collided with the cold tiles.

My stomach turned like a merry-go-round, my taste buds nauseated with the taste of my digested lunch. Forcing myself to swallow my disgust I saw her ring finger comfortably settled on a black book. It looked like a journal, destroyed and tormented with the words of the mind that could never be understood.

I lifted the book, letting her finger roll off gently. But it fell to the floor, breaking in half.

Dear Daniel . . .

The first page of this book knew my name. I watched her icy body again for a moment before I started to read the tale of my damsel drowning in unthinkable sorrow.


Sacrifice the life of a dying

Humanity lost of the wandering one

No love could ever save her soul

Save the soul of she who was already gone . . .


If you found this, my dear Daniel, it means that I’m already cold and hardened.

I found a way to cure myself Danny, I finally found a way. And I know, I know right now you’re shaking your head frantically, but I found it! I killed the killer inside of me, and now it’s all over. All the torment, all the tears, all the insanity.

But I must explain everything, and I will.


I was thirteen when it happened. For the past year my father had been abusing my mother. Whether it was emotionally or physically, his cruelty rained down on her everyday. As for me, his abuse came at night behind locked doors. He said I was special, beautiful and this is the way he wanted to show his little girl love. Never did I feel the grace of a blissful evening, experience the pleasure of a peaceful sleep. He continued to please himself and torment my body and my mind.

My mother was a weakling, fearing his presence, his power. She never stopped him, or tried to stop him for that matter. After his fists left bruises on her sensitive skin, she cried herself to sleep as she listened to the bruises he left me. And it tore her apart. Yet she never stopped him.

But I was not like my mother, no, my fear turned into a sickened rage. An unstoppable rage. It was the day before my fourteenth year. My mother was bleeding, crawling on the ground like a cockroach. He stepped on her, kicked her ribs until the cracking sounds were heard clearly. His happy hour with her was over, and finally it was my turn. No more waiting for daddy to please himself.

He entered my room silently, walking with a huge smile to my bed. Slowly he removed the covers, and to his surprise there I was lying awake and ready. He stroked my hair, running his promiscuous hand over my womanhood. I granted him a smile, his last smile.

A knife came flying from behind my back and lodged itself in his vile throat. He choked on his own blood, his hands holding his neck to shield it from any other damage. But I was prepared, for another knife met his heart. Drops of blood stained my face but it didn’t stain my perception, my mission, my freedom.

I removed the knife only to place it in his flesh again. His screams were drowned with his blood, my hands covered with the red paint of his body.

It was over. Finally over.

I went out of my room to check on my mother. When she saw what I was covered with she cursed and accused me for every fault that took place under this roof.

I couldn’t stand it. I did it for her, I did it for me! And she was ungrateful! How dare she?!

My options were narrowed down and the solution was obvious.

So the blade tasted the short beats of her heart as well. Repeatedly.

Floating in her own pool of blood, I placed the wiped blade in her hand.

I phoned the police, crying about the homicide and suicide that had happened. They rushed to my sorrowful sobs, comforting my every tear. The next day headlines hit the town newspaper.

‘Mother ends life of her abusive husband before ending her own.’

Case was closed, never to be spoken of again. And of course they never knew who the real killer was. It was a closed chapter in a terrible novel, one never to be read again.

Or that’s what I thought. Instead the killer never ended her chapter, she was only dormant until a few months ago.

Something awoke her from her deadly slumber, I wish I knew what.

One day I cut myself in a foolish accident. Expecting to see red blood flowing I was shocked with the presence of a black substance. I was healed in an instant.

Miracle or curse?

I needed to be sure, so I cut myself again, deeper. The exact same thing happened again. Black ‘blood’ healing my torn flesh. I thought of it as a supernatural gift, something I could live with.

I was wrong though, terribly wrong.

It was after midnight and I fell onto my soft bed ready for my peaceful slumber.

But I found that I couldn’t move an inch of skin when I felt something leave my body. I panicked, struggling inside myself. I was helpless, barely breathing when my eyes witnessed her ghastly presence.

Before me stood the mirrored silhouette of myself. It was like my shadow and I were separated. She lifted her shadowed hand, closing my eyelids for me. I was unable to open them again. But she granted me the ability to see through her eyes.

She was on the streets, casually hiding in shadows as dark as herself, until she discovered something she liked.

An adolescent girl with locks of blonde hair, emerald green eyes and clothing that only covered the essential. My shadow approached her, slowly stalking the unknowing figure. Like a demon possessing a human body, my shadow possessed her silhouette. Walking around as her dark reflection for a while, she grew tired of this game and choked her. Choked her until she turned a shade of blue. The blonde girl fell lifeless to the ground as my shadow left hers, returning home to enter my body again. I felt movement in my muscles again, disturbing movement. I convinced myself that I awoke from a dreadful dream and that my imagination was of novel quality. I slept soundlessly only to awake to the morning news. There she was, the body of the blonde girl on the small screen. Cause of death: Strangling. Time of death: Between twelve and one o’clock this morning. Tears spilled from my eyes like a full cup. As crazy as the thought was, it was reality. I killed that innocent girl. I possess something that was an addicted murderer. Night after night I witnessed her stalking the streets of the night, sometimes killing, sometimes torturing. People died in cruel manners, manners with no evidence. But I knew, I knew what this monster was. I needed to stop her before she put a stop to me.

I shot myself, slit my wrists, hung myself, jumped off buildings but I was always repaired by the gloomy black substance. I gave up hope, I gave up life and every passing day I was dying like her victims.

Until I met you Daniel. You gave me hope, happiness. When I met you she was dormant again, and I thought that it had ended. But it hadn’t. She awoke again, murdered again, killed me again. I reached out to you, I wanted you to help me, rescue me. But that was impossible, she was me and remained in me. I was caught in a whirlpool of abusive insanity. Until last night.

You made me forget, even if it only was for a few hours. And as your head rested against my shoulder after our intimate activities, I watched a documentary on the one thing that could stop this homicidal psychopath. I left you, placing one last kiss on your lonely lips.

I injected myself with several syringes filled with her death. Her rain of sickening pleasure is over and I have learned the secret to life and happiness.


That is the secret. I feel alive now as I lie in my black gown with my frozen veins. Alive at last after all these years.

Your infamous Shadow Stalker was a she, and she lived within me.

As for love, love is nothing more that an obsession that a person has with another. An endless obsession that hurts over and over again. It hurt me to leave you like this, and I’m sure it hurt you to find me as an ice sculpture. And I’m sure it hurts you to read the ink I left behind. But I can assure you Daniel, you’re obsession will grow again, for someone who is everything that you deserve. You’ll see Danny, you’ll see.

I bid thee an eternal farewell with all my love and obsession.


Cry tears of lost hope

Hope that had always been wrong

The seed of obsession rests within you

Sprouting leaves of love when you have found the One


Tears erased the ink on which it fell. I threw the truth to the floor, my mind angry, my heart in pain. I paced up and down, my shoes breaking her arm into crushed ice. I tried to clear my mind, clear my eyes from misted tears. I looked down upon her body again, resting, hiding from herself. Fury overwhelmed me as I grabbed her by her cold shoulders again. Releasing a trapped cry, I smashed her head into the wooden coffee table, half of her skull falling like raindrops to the floor. Her rimed corpse graced the ground like the frost of an early winter morning, her blood as black as the fallen snow.

I decided how to comfort my aching heart.

I kissed her frozen lips for the last time before I took a syringe that was filled with the suicidal fluid.        

My shaking hand held it tightly, tears passing the twisted smile that haunted my face. 

The End

1 comment about this story Feed