It was day time.
I hated it.
I was always to easy to spot in daylight. At night I could go wherever I pleased and no one would see me.
Not unless I wanted them to see me.
If you think I'm a human then you're wrong. Very wrong.
There was a time - a long time ago, mind you - that I was a human. But let's not dwell on the past. All you need to know is that I have a self imposed mission to kill every last "pretty boy" out there. All of them were cursed, and I must purge this evil.
If you really must know what I look like; I'm a shadow. A sliver of the being I once was. With no particular form. it's difficult for me to make distinct shapes like trees and people and whatnot. But I can handle flagpoles, rocks, small buildings, et cetera.
The best place to find "pretty boys" was at high schools. They were their worst at this age. And you could smell them a mile away. They smelled to me like cheap cologne and evil.
Look I'm not in the wrong here. In fact I've been self employed since 1708. I've never left this town and I never will. But if I told you where I was you'd come looking for me and I'd have to kill you too, and I'd rather not have our relationship come to that; I quite like having someone to listen to me. I'm right because of what they did to me when I was alive. I can't really remember it, but I can recall dreadful emotions and fuzzy, blurred memories of the few days before I died. Before they killed me.
My anger culled, I usually stalk a victim around for about a day. If they prove themselves to be a "pretty boy" I kill them; sometimes disguised as a medical fluke, sometimes an athletic accident, a suicide, but when I feel particularly cocky and sly I leave it to the officials to make up a story. Always it's a murder but they know it's not, they know something unnatural is out there killing boys, their "pretty boys". I watch them grovel and writhe under my shadowy heel. Investigating lead after lead with no avail.
Their precious "pretty boys" taken from them.
