Four policeman arrive outside of a grey building after receiving an anonymous tip this morning. Their sirens blare and their blue lights flash against the dull concrete.
They enter and inspect the building and its rooms, all empty, until one.
A girl lies on a metal gurney, hands crossed against her chest, her face and body cleasned of blood except one part. Where her eyes should be are two bloodied, sunken in sockets. Her skin in grey, and her pulse gone.
A strip of white fabric lies across her one bare ankle, a policeman reads it aloud:
In the shadows does he prey, now look at where the catch may lay.
Upon a table or on the ground, they'll scream until there is no sound.
Each girl you find will be torn apart as he turns each one into his own piece of art.
So far it's four, but trust that in time there'll be more.
Soon you will take the blame, for you'll never catch up in his game.
The men stood in silence as the man's third person rhyme rang through their minds.
If only they had gotten their hours earlier.
YOU ARE READING
stolen from sleep.
Short Story"In the shadows does he prey, now look at where the catch may lay. Upon a table or on the ground, they'll scream until there is no sound. Each girl you find will be torn apart as he turns each one into his own piece of art. So...
