Darkness had descended on them a few hours ago and yet the city was ablaze with brightness. The hustle and bustle of the carnival did not seem like it would quiet down any time soon. Children ran with balloons in hand and couples scurried away with snow cones and bags exploding with gifts. The whole scene sparkled with the joy and delight of the festive season. The crisp autumn air, caramel candy apples, and clouds of cotton candy attracted children with rosy cheeks, begging their mothers to spare some pennies. The star of the show was the giant Ferris wheel, glittering with neon red and green lights. The humongous structure moved slowly, at its own pace, as if taking in the beauty of the celebration.
Beyond the jovial crowd, lay a set of eerie and mirthless eyes, watching every movement. The blonde hair of the fair maidens seemed to captivate him in an unnatural way. He approached one of them. She was standing behind a quaint little stall selling cakes and confections. He glanced the menu scribbled hastily on a piece of slate with chalk and bought a slice of blueberry cheesecake for eighteen pence. The taste was foreign to his palate which was accustomed to rye bread and cheap beer. He licked the plate clean in no time and resumed his routine of perusing strangers.
One girl stood out of the hordes of blonde hair. Her gossamer dress peaked from the hem of her woollen coat. She pulled her scarf tightly around her shoulders to protect herself from the cold October wind. Her eyes, icy blue and her face, pale; she looked around herself, like a deer caught in the headlights. His eyes lit up, realising that he found himself the perfect ‘specimen’. He took long strides towards her and weaved through the crowds to reach her. But she was gone. “Where did she go?” he thought to himself desperately. He had to find her.
Time passed by, and the crowd was thinning. He was losing hope. As if a miracle occurred, he saw her standing near the merry-go-round, with a gleeful countenance. Her icy blue eyes met with his brown ones for a split second and he found himself mesmerized by them. Quickly, he chalked out a plan in his head, scanned the area for the least crowded exit, and touched the cold glass vial in his pocket. He trailed her like a shadow, drenched a rag with some liquid from the vial, and stood in a corner. All that was left to do was wait. His vile smirk was the proof that he knew that his plan will pan out smoothly, just like it did nineteen times before.
He lurked in the dark until he saw the perfect opportunity. He clenched the rag in his fist and in one swift movement, pressed it over her mouth. She fell unconscious, almost instantly. He looked around to make sure that no one had seen him and scampered away with her limp body in his arms. Instead of the usual way, he took the forest route which was etched in his mind by now. No one dared to roam in the thickets at this odd hour. There was an eerie silence, owls hooting, leaves rustling and branches cracking under his heavy steps.
He reached a clearing in the middle of the forest which housed a small cottage. The candlelight flickered through the old oil lamp hanging at the entrance. It appeared to be a small cottage but there was more than what met the eye. This cottage was built over an abandoned underground bunker which he found two years ago, in search of a place to stay. Walking down the steps, he found himself in the main atrium of the bunker that sheltered tall cabinets, a small sink, and a huge table. He pushed the door to one of the sound-proofed rooms, looked at the sour cream walls that exhibited old medals, and carefully laid her frail form on the small bed. Her skin was soft to touch and unusually cold. A few wisps of blonde hair framed her delicate features. Around her slender neck, he noticed a fine necklace with a small gold locket resting on her chest. The locket had an intricate crest engraved on it, which spoke of fine craftsmanship. He adjusted the pillow to cradle her head and decided to visit tomorrow. He shut the door behind him, but not before chaining her ankle to the bed frame securely.
He skimmed his surroundings with a nefarious smile plastered across his gruff face. Unopened letters, upholstery splattered with dried blood which had turned brown, viscera preserved in jars with greenish-yellow liquid and ecru skulls adorned the glossy table. The whole place reeked of a putrid stench. He reached in one of the cabinets which was full of oddities. A red brooch pin, a leather sandal of size 8, a small watch with a thin suede strap, a sheer lacy slip were some of the peculiar contents of that strange cabinet. He ascended up the stairs taking his leave for the night.
The exhilaration running through his veins did not allow him to drift off to sleep. The anticipation made him restless. He spent the whole night meticulously planning for tomorrow. Heinous thoughts swirled in his mind, imbued with debauchery and perversion.
He sprung out of the bed at the crack of the dawn. The misty morning and the cool air compelled him to light the stove. He set a kettle on top of it for his Earl Grey. With a cup in hand, he descended down the stairs. A malicious smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
He set the cup on the table next to the iron mallet, hastily wrapped in a blood-stained rag. With steady steps, he approached the door of the room and slowly twisted the doorknob, with a small, shiny hammer clenched in his hand.
No one was there. The chains and the ankle cuff hung on the bed frame. “Where did she go?” He thought to himself frantically. He started looking around hysterically but what met his eyes next, shocked him to the core. He felt a shadow move and he craned his neck to get a better look. His eyes widened in unforeseen horror, mouth left agape. The hammer fell through his loose grip on the cemented ground with a thud, that resonated through the empty bunker.
She was there, on the ceiling. Limbs contorted in a grotesque manner. The smooth golden locks, now a scruffy mess. Her delicate features were malformed in an unnatural way. Her icy blue eyes were now white, fixated on him. Her full lips were now gurgling foam and blood. Now it dawned upon him, the crest he saw on her locket? It belonged to the hidden coven of witc-
Before he could complete his thought, the freakish eldritch opened its hollow mouth and let out a blood-curdling scream that pierced his ears like sharp knives. He turned pale, managing to stutter a few words, “Who, wh-what a-are you?” The supernatural creature screeched, sending chills down his spine and making his hair stand on end. “Don’t ever ask me that again!” it roared before lunging at him with its grimy claws. All he could see was its open, hollow mouth which looked like a bottomless void of emptiness before dark spots clouded his vision and he was granted an excruciatingly painful death tormented by agony that he brought upon himself.
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