Dancing With Murder

Moonless

Blackness seemed to touch everything and the wind blew gently in the night. The leaves were many shades of red and orange, crisp with autumn. On this particular night though even the leaves dared not to move. Heavy footsteps danced on the pavement and if you listened closely you could hear the joyful humming of the lullaby Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. The man seemed to glide on air and was soon standing out side the house of the DeCastles. It was a small house and nothing really stood out, but non the less, this,  was the desired house.

The man slipped on a pair of black leather gloves and walked up to the door. Locked. He smiled. He knew that this would happen. Slowly, he pulled out a hammer. He raised the heavy tool over his head and brought it down on the handle. The door swung open and he strode in. There were a set of stairs along the east wall and he lightly tiptoed up. On the left side of the hallway was a heavy oak door. He placed a gloved hand on the doorknob and turned. The door opened with ease and he let out a maniacal giggle of delight. There on the large bed was Amber DeCastle. Her long golden hair was splayed out around her head like a halo.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a dark bottle and a rag. He didn't approve of this kind of transportation, but it was much quieter than just picking her up. Soaking the rag he clamped his hand over her mouth and held on. She jerked up and struggled for a moment before falling down on the bed. Deep sleep. Now and later. He grabbed her arm and slung her over his shoulder. Then he carefully walked downstairs and out the way he came.

The next morning the young girl was pronounced missing, the day after? Dead.