The Taking of Eleanor Ainsworth

Prologue

Isn't snow beautiful ?

The way it glides down from the twilight skies and Heavens above, settling on the cold dirty ground at the first breath of wind. The bare trees, spaced out along the edges of the small lane, weeped and mourned under the weight of the snow that lay harmlessly on their branches. The time between darkness and sunrise was the perfect cover for him, the streets were empty and immersed in a dull light that created frightening shadows against brick walls.

The snow was getting heavier now, swirling down in great flurries over the silent and sleeping city. Although the natural lighting was poor, the snow that settled on the ground illuminated the small lane from the ground up.

He looked down at his art work, fascinated by the beauty of it. Becoming aroused by the pool of red that had stained the white snow. He thought of himself as the next Henri Matisse or Pablo Picasso, telling a story through his use of art.

He bent down, cocking his head to the side staring into the scared and dull eyes of his victim.

But what story should I tell ?

The girl mumbled incoherently the blood spilling out of her slit throat.

"Sh," he drawled, placing a gloved finger to her blue lips. He watched as she coughed up blood, the substance covering her cheeks and neck before settling on the white ground beneath her, soaking her blonde locks and turning the white dress he forced her to wear into a dark thick red.

"The death of a beautiful woman is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world." He murmured, wiping a tear away from her blue eyes. Smiling slightly as the words of Edgar Allan Poe left his parted lips. He gripped the knife tighter and brought it towards her heart the tip piercing her skin enough to draw blood but to not kill her.

He looked back up at her, the life draining from her eyes, her lungs no longer filling with air, and her heart rate slowing. He sighed slapping her in the face.

"No, my dear I want your heart to be beating when I do this." he tutted, shaking his head as the girl cried struggling to breathe.

"Good girl." He licked his lips and pushed the knife in deeper and slower into her chest, the blade piercing through the rest of her skin and heart. The girl hiccuped and exhaled her last breath her blue eyes staring up at the dark sky. He bowed his head whispering a few words under his breath before pulling the knife out of her chest.

He rose, his eyes never leaving the girl's.

"Such exceptional beauty" he murmured, holding the knife down by his side, droplets running off of the metal and dripping onto the ground, he lifted it, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping the blood away.

"Pity it was wasted on a whore"