Started this Junior year of high school, haven't finished it yet.


Stretching his sore, cramped legs, he pulls his bandanna up from his neck to cover his mouth like old bandits used to. Silently, in step, he walks behind his prey, a short built man. While pulling a battered rope out of his pouch of his hooded sweatshirt, he remembers the first time he used this rope. Four years, ago he murdered his first victims, the neighbors dog and cat, smirking as he watched the animals hang from the tree in the woods behind his house. With a smirk on his face he gets ready to drop the rope over the man's head and feel him take his last breath in this world. Feeling the man struggle against the rope pulled tight on his neck. Laughing at the victim struggling against the rope makes the predator feel like he is fighting his first prey, the neighbors dog. Flipping around, fighting for its life, what a high he got from it. Minutes easily pass, the victim's struggle slows to almost nothing. With a sigh of relief the predator feels his victim's last breath. Noting it mentally, the predator throws the dead body onto his shoulders, as if he was a fireman.

Not caring what is now around him or what his surrounding area looks like he drops the body in the middle of a clearing in the woods. In the dimly lit woods, he starts to unbutton his victim's dull flannel shirt. Setting it far away from the body he begins to stab the man in the chest multiple times in a heart shape. Watching the blood roll out of the body, he wipes his six inch blade clean on a bleach white towel. Making a mental note of what he's going to do with it, he places it in a gallon-sized zip-lock bag. Stowing his knife back into its home, a dark brown sheath, while walking away from his work.

Taking his victim's house key out of his pocket he unlocks the door, carries his victim into the house, as if they were just wed. Placing the victim in front of the couch yet behind the glass coffee table. Going back to the door he is brought back to reality by his victim's neighbor. Stepping closer to the strange man the medium height neighbor questions the stranger, "What are you doing here? You don't live here!" Shocked the predator looks up to glare at the neighbor as he replies, "You see he got wasted at a party, I'm just bringing him to his home." Quickly grabbing the doorknob the predator begins to walk back to the living room where he has left his job unfinished. Pulling the zip-lock bag out of his hooded sweatshirt's pouch, he begins to think where to place it. "Not too close to the body but not far enough away for those idiots think that I came here unprepared and had to improvise," he thought to himself. Placing the bloodstained towel at the base of the coffee table's leg, feeling satisfied he doesn't move it but proceeds to finishing the job at hand.

Starring at the couch then to his knife multiple times trying to decided what to do to this hideous piece of furniture. Twisting the knife in between his fingers he gets a brilliant, yet sinister idea. Stepping over the pathetic looking corpse the vile predator begins to take his frustration out on the couch, stabbing it left and right not caring what he is doing. Along with frustration he uses what everyone has said or done to him. Always being picked last, stab; being teased, stab; and so much more angry pours out of him. Not noticing that he had incidentally sliced his left hand on the inside of it. Finishing up on making the couch look even more hideous he finally feels a tinge of pain coming from his left hand. Glancing down he notices that he had actually sliced his hand during his fun. Laughing in his vile sinister laugh he finds a bottle of bleach and begins the clean up his body wound.

Watching where he waltzes, the tall, lanky crime scene investigator approaches the hellish looking living room. The couch, located in the poorly lit back left corner, has multiple slashes in it, like a teddy bear that has been in the mouth of a vicious dog, the guys of the couch are partially on the outside, hanging on by a thread. In the middle of the room, sprawled on the floor, is the male victim. The victim being approximately five foot five inches tall with short, dull, wavy brown hair, and deep dark brown eyes. Analyzing the corpse, the investigator detects ligature marks on the victim's neck. The marks look like two lines that were painted blue and purple then smudged together. Lowering his glance to the torso, at first, he notices nothing. With a second glance he notices that the white buttons on the dull, red flannel shirt aren't lined up correctly. Seizing his black camera, he snaps a picture of his detecting. As fast as the camera said "click," he jots down what he observed.

Looking around the room he sees no rope or anything else that could have aided in the death of this man. Under the glass coffee table, feet away from the body, is a bleach white towel with blood smothered on it. Before bagging it for evidence the investigator snaps another picture and takes another note. "Man, what did the murderer use the knife on? Where did he stow it?" The investigator questioned himself. Scratching his head the investigator walks back to the front door.