He stood there waiting , staring , watching everything. Trees and rocks covered him ; they hid him from the world. The prey was venerable , in site of everyone , not knowing they were being followed. Big , black roads are the only thing that is in between him and the prey. It was the safe zone. Cars , lorries and trucks of all shapes and sizes zoom past the houses. His long , black coat drags along the muddy ground. Big , black shoes he wore , were black no more. He wore a black hat that was big and round.
Thud , thud , thud.
He walked over there dragging long , heavy , wooden axe. Scrape , scrape , scrape is the only sound you hear coming off on the black , hard concrete. He gets closer and closer to the modern house. Creek... the door swings wide open.
Step by step he gets closer to the master bedroom. He slowly picks up his axe swings it onto his boney shoulder. Closer and closer he gets to the bedroom.
Click , the door knob turns and the wooden door opens. His footsteps are all that you can hear. Lifting the axe above his head.
Splat , splat blood all over the room. But he didn't leave any prints behind. He picks up the lifeless body and hangs it over his shoulder. Carrying out the body , blood dripped all over the floor.
Once he was in the forest , he started to dig a deep hole to bury the unfortunate soul. He picked the body up and chucked it in the hole. He grabbed the shovel and started to put dirt back into the hole.
No witnesses ..... and there will never be.
No one knows who he is or why he does this. No one has the power to stop him. And when he has the chance he takes his prey with him to hell.
YOU ARE READING
The stranger.
Short StoryA short shorty about figure who's always around but no one knows who he is or where he cane from.
