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 spawned a symphonic piece that paired well with the vision of her dripping blood. He began to cross the street and salivated as he watched her tongue peek out of her mouth. He imagined her hissing his name.
Suddenly, the man was jolted by a big bang. The bang roared over the sound of cracking bones as his skin ripped. He lied on the ground as his jaw dangled; life slowly escaped him. He took deep breaths as a weeping teenager held a cellphone over him.
The woman he coveted approached the stillness of his carnage. She was moments older, which brought tears to his eyes. He finally heard her voice, “Did someone call the paramedics for this poor man?”