Editor's note: contains graphic violence. <.em>


Green grass bends to the rhythm of the night. Darkness corrupts the moonlight. A body lies mutilated against the plush grass. Eyes open, the corpse is painted with blood. Barbed wire cuts into the jaw revealing thick pink crevasses, and white teeth. He watches her lying there. Skin is muted pale under a pink dress. Thick lines of jagged wire stick out where ribs should be. Blood pools out around thick legs. How beautiful, he thinks looking down at her. He is the painter and she is his easel.

Standing over the cask of what was once a college girl the man begins to wipe blood from his trousers. This is the last moments of her life. This young woman, who hasn’t done much, is now lying and waiting for him to disrupt a quiet perfection.

A scream tears through the background. Shoulders still the man turns to walk back towards the main road. The woods are dense. Trees scratch like fingers against his tan flesh. 5’9 he navigates through underbrush. Buzzing, lights, mud all become a canvas. Another scream escapes through the muddled darkness. He moves quicker. About a mile from the main road two cars sit like lovers. His truck is still running all but drowning out the snivels coming from the other car. Another blond thrashes wildly in the backseat of a Toyota Corolla.

“Be quiet,” he says opening the door. She thrashes even more now. He adjusts the tape across her sweaty lip but leaves her. Her screams become more muffled. Grabbing a shovel from the back of his truck he sets out again to bury his treasure.

The shovel heavy in his hands is lifted above a chubby body. As he brings the shovel down, bones give in a deep crunch. Sinew tears as he pushes the shovel through her body to the soft ground below. Metal manipulates her stomach walls until there is nothing left but gray matter. The earth gives way to his heavy hands. After his hole is dug, he scoops the upper half of her torso into the shallow grave. When he shoves the other part in, he has to use the shovel to scrape up what is left of the lower abdomen. Satisfied he covers the body. He makes his way back to his car slowly recounting every inked moment.

Blue eyes stare out through the fogged car window. She scrambles in the confines of the cotton seats. Mouth sweats beneath duct tape. A muted scream escapes the new victim’s breath. Water tickles the thin bridge of a nose. All she can do is give into the waiting. Heavy boots clomp down breaking branches. The wait is over. She knows he is just beyond her now.

Pulled tape marks flesh, yanks hair, and leaves a mouth open for screams.

“No!” she yells trying to kick out with her feet. “Where is Susan?”

The man grabs her muscular legs wrapping his self around her flesh. Honey smells float to his nostrils as her golden hair flicks forward and backwards.

“Stop!” she yells voice tight.

Breath heavy he pulls her from the cramped car. He can see it in her eyes just how much she wants to be special to him. Her crystalline eyes shake with her tears; her throat chokes in passionate breaths. Her throat chokes on clumps of salt and fear.

“Susan!” She tries again in vain. Frantically he places a slick liquid hand over her swollen mouth.

His other hand goes to the thickness of her neck. She nips at his hand. A fighter she bites and scratches at her target.

“Don’t move,” he says angrily.

“Help,” she yells out again but it doesn’t matter. All he can hear is lipstick smeared lips whispering to him. The word help is like a cry of a need that only he can fulfill.

She tries to run.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He says slapping her face hard.

Stunned she stills. He hits her again.

“Look what you made me do!” He yells. “Now look at you, ruined!”

She lies on the uneven ground. Her chest rises and falls in hurried rhythm. Grabbing her by her hands he yanks her upwards. A knife gleams in his free hand. All she can do is watch. The knife gleams. Her world goes black.

He lifts the shovel for the second time that night. Cleaning up is a ritual more than artistic prowess. The shallow grave won’t be found for months, maybe even years. Then he hears it, the sound of footsteps on the un-pure ground behind him.

“Don’t move,” the shaky voice says. It is more a whisper than a sound. He wonders if the cops have finally caught on to the dentist turned serial killer. He knows that he has been overly careful.

The dentist turns against his captor’s will to find a short man staring at him behind the barrel of a gun.

“Who are you?” The dentist doesn’t recognize the spot spreading on his perfectly painted campus.

“You killed her! You killed my sister!”

Now he can see the same blue eyes that shook for him a month ago. He notes the same thin lips that begged him. She of course had the anatomy that would warrant replication, but he is frail enough to be mistaken.

“What do you want?” He realizes that the more he stands here talking, the more someone else could see. An actual threat could present itself.

“Revenge,” the frail boy moves forward. His hand stays firmly on the trigger but it is obvious that he is nervous to use the gun. The dentist knows the dangers of having a gun that one won’t use. He rushes the blonde pale boy to the ground. The gun is lost in the madness. When the gunshot goes off both parties are shocked.

“Are you ok?” A blonde girl asks bleeding from a wound just above her heart. Dirt peels off of her like rain drops.

“I thought you were dead,” the boy says touching her face to make sure he isn’t dreaming.

“I should be,” she says setting her sites on the dentist.

“YOU BITCH!” The dentist is clinging to the hole that has formed in his shoulder. His breath wheezes in and out.

“You will pay for what you did,” the dentist wheezes walking toward the blonde frail couple.

“You saved me,” the blonde boy says rushing to the young girl’s side. Her body is a ragged mess of dirt and pain. His hands go to her shoulder but her focus is all for the one who designed the night in ripples of blood and fear.

“No,” she says with a cackle, “I saved me.”

She lifts the gun again, “I saved me and every girl that would have come after me.”

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