The Photographer

Prologue

Pink clouds floated against the clear blue sky like pieces of cotton candy that had been dropped on water. Harry raised his camera to his eye and took three photos of the beautiful sky in quick succession. He then turned the camera towards the rolling fields of multi-colored flowers that lay ahead of him. A lone bird, tall and white, simple and majestic all at once, waltzed in the field. Harry once again took three photos quickly. Satisfied with his days work, he headed to his Volkswagen van, which looked like something a 1970's hippie would drive, and got in. He turned on his music player. The first few chords of Jesse McCartney's song Beautiful Soul echoed through the van. It was an old song, but it was Harry's all time favorite.

Harry cranked up his van and pulled onto the highway. At this time of day traffic was thin and made his drive pleasant. He sang along to the song. "I don't want another pretty face, I don't want just anyone to hold. I don't want my love to go to waste, I want you and your Beautiful Soul." His fingers tapped on the steering wheel in time with the beat. The wind blew through his long, caramel colored hair. A smile played along his pink, plump lips. Harry loved his job.

Harry Styles, 21, was a professional photographer. He started taking photos on his iPhone when he was 16 and put them on Instagram. When his mother, Anne, got him a professional camera for his 18th birthday, he knew what he wanted to do for a living. Despite his young age, he's travelled quite far and wide. Harry has taken pictures of London's beautiful skyline, Dubai's majestic buildings, and Africa's wild plains. But, there was something else that Harry enjoyed. Something no one knew about. Something so vile and wicked that no one would ever guess. At least, not yet.

Harry Styles was also a serial killer. He'd kill wherever he'd happened to be on a job at the time. So far, he's killed at least a dozen and hasn't been suspected yet. Harry wonders if he should slow down, but his addiction to murder is just too great. He doesn't know why or how he started killing. He'd always had a sick mind, always wanting to see the insides of living things. Wanting to see how they functioned. Harry started killing the field mice that frequented his childhood homes garden. He trap them, knock them unconscious, and perform a Y-Incision on their bodies. The Y-Incision: He'd take a knife and cut a Y into the torso of the animal. A line from each shoulder, making a V shape. And then down the length of its body, completing the Y shape.

This sick game went on for a while until he got tired of such small prey and went for bigger animals, such as cats and dogs. No one knew that hen the neighborhoods beloved pets went missing, it was because little Harry Styles would take them into the woods and break their limbs with a bat. And, while the animal is still alive and writhing in pain, he'd gouge out their eyes before breaking their necks.

Yes, Harry Styles had been one crazy lunatic. But, it wasn't until he was an adult, that he started killing humans. His first victim was 19yr old Victor Sorbesky.

Harry had the job of photographing the males birthday party. After the party was over, Harry and Victor were the only two left. Harry suddenly grabbed the knife that was used to cut the cake and stabbed it into the males jugular. Taking the knife with him, he walked out of the house and left.

A smirk played in Harry's lips as he remembered his first killing. He remembered the thrill, the adrenaline that coursed through his body as the knife sank into the flesh as easy as if it was soft butter. He remembers the joy of watching the life fade from the mans eyes.

Harry soon pulled up to the hotel he was temporarily staying at. Getting out, he grabbed his things and headed to his room. Once in, he checked his phone:

(1) New Message

From: MODEST! Management
To: Harry Styles
Subject: Band Photos

Hello Mr.Styles. This is Burt Green of MODEST! Management. I'm contacting you because I'd like to set up an appointment for you to take pictures of a band we own, One Direction. Please reply ASAP.

Sincerely, Burt Green.

Harry smiled. Another job, another dollar. And maybe, another murder? What would it be like to kill such high profile people. Should he kill one or all? All might be too risky...he'd stick with just one, for now. He quickly replied back to Burt Green, agreeing to do the job. He powered of his phone, kicked of his shoes and climbed into bed. Harry drifted off to sleep anticipating his new assignment.