The FetcherMature

Nothing about the man seemed right. He wore a suit, but it was tattered and the man bore no shoes. He had a cigar, but he seemed to be going through it more like a chain smoker went through cigarettes. He wore a top hat, but he was in the middle of a forest.

The man’s demeanor was quite sinister, also. His cold, yellow eyes stared deep into the boy's soul. A demented smile of rotten teeth also looked his way.

"Hello there, lovely boy." He said in a thick cockney accent.

Dumbfounded, the boy tried to get up, but had no luck in doing so.  His legs simply wouldn't respond.  

The man chuckled at this, a deep threatening sound.  "What'sa matter, boy?  You looking to go somewhere?"  He shook his head and reached behind the tree, pulling out the girl from the park earlier.  

She was crying.  There was blood on her shirt, but by the looks of it, it wasn't hers.  With a jolt of surprise, she caught sight of the boy.  For a moment she sat there.  Then she mouthed the words "get away."

"You stay there, sweetie."  The man growled, and threw her to the ground.  He walked slowly towards the boy, into the creekbed, and crouched in front of him - so close that the boy could smell him.  It was a sickening smell - the combination of sweat, blood and the overwhelming aroma of flowers.  "Look at me, boy."  He said, grabbing the boy's face and bringing it close to his.

The man looked him up and down before patting him on the shoulder, standing up and laughing maniacally.  "Boy, stand up."

The End

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