His eyes stared, hinting clues that could expose his desires. Across the street stood a beautiful woman whose soul radiated a glow her skin could barely contain.
She smiled, conversing with a man who seemed like nothing more than a blur or speck. He imagined her smile hinted at happiness that was only meant for him. The man relished the moments his eyes touched her innocence as he coveted her screams. “Her beauty must not age,” he thought.
He had a vision of the tender sounds her skin would make when he slit her throat. The knife would–in soothing, gushing notes–slit the dark hue above her skin. The blood would spill every manly gaze that was ever upon her. “She is mine,” he thought, as chatter seemed to spawn a symphonic piece that paired well with the vision of her dripping blood. He begins to cross the street, salivating as he watches her tongue peek out of her mouth. He imagines her hissing his name.
Suddenly, the man is jolted by a big bang. The bang roars over the sound of cracking bones as his skin rips. He lies on the ground as his jaw dangles; life slowly escapes him. He takes deep breaths as a weeping teenager holds a cellphone over him.
The man sees the woman he coveted approach the stillness of his carnage. She is moments older, which brings tears to his eyes. He finally hears her voice say, “Did someone call the paramedics for this poor man?”