Such a beautiful massacre.

Part One.

It was all so familiar.

The man felt the same chills run through his body, though they weren't caused by the sinister act he was about to perform. Darkness lurked behind each wall of the modernised house and murder hung in the air like thick fog, slithering through Wallingford until it engulfed it completely. The man dressed in a black cloak he only wore on pernicious occasions knew the act of murder well, accompanying the electrifying chills it brought along. He pulled. The long, narrow blue dagger from the concealed pocket of his cloak as he looked down on his current sleeping victim. In the bed lay a girl no older than 9, she wore a nightgown of high quality and expense, with matching satin bows that clung loosely to her curls.
The intruder smiled behind his mask, knowing it would only take a moment before the perfectly sharpened blade of his dagger would strike her skull, tear through her flesh and puncture one of the most vital organs in the young girls body.
The act would leave her no time to wake nor scream. His lips curled into a grin again, though this time at the thought of soaking her her pretty little nightgown in a pool of dark red blood, the soft white silk being smeared with the thick liquid bought him satisfaction.
The killers hands trembled with excitement as he raised the dagger, his expression similar to a mad mans. His eyes stared at his peaceful victim-- He watched all of them die.
With each murder he committed his eyes would watch every second of their deaths, savouring the moments till their last breath. The masked intruder never failed to finish his job, one ensuring the person was indeed dead he would flee the scene.
Taking a long deep breath, the killers eyes narrowed in on the girl from behind his black mask, his muscles tensing, his hear racing. He swung his arm down, dagger in hand and watched as it sliced into her skull. The blood poured almost instantly from her gash.
Immediately, the girls eyes opened but he continued thrusting the pointed object into her head. A faraway look formed in her eyes, but the man didn't stop. He continued to violently stab at the dead body, watching closely as blood flowed heavily from her many wounds.
His insanity was evident and he knew it but that simple fact was nothing to his need to kill. The bedsheets were drenched, as well as her nightgown which did indeed bring him great satisfaction. Blood dripped from the bed to the wooden flooring, surrounding the killers shoes. He paid no mind to the mess, for he didn't care. He was staring at the once beautiful body that was now a mangled bloody mess. The sight would be stomach-churning to some the killer knew, but not to him. He wished he could stay with the body and look at it but he couldn't, for it was only midnight and he had other places to be and other people to see.