Shield of Art

PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE

“When this monster entered my brain, I will never know, but it is here to stay. How does one cure himself? I can’t stop it, the monster goes on and hurts me as well as society. Maybe you can stop him. I can’t.” 

- Dennis Rader (the BTK Killer).

He stood above her, bloody knife in his sure grasp, dripping all over her white rug. It was shocking to see such a vivid colour against the pristine white. His dark eyes focused on her and held her captive in every way that the binds on her wrists and ankles didn’t. Gracie knew she was going to die here, she knew it the moment he thanked her for being hospitable. Something in those dark orbs had her gasping a breath to scream before he had even pulled out the gun.

Gracie had always been nice, not once had she not stopped to help an animal that was hurt, or an elderly citizen who couldn’t pay a bus fare. She hadn’t thought twice about letting the well-dressed man with a friendly smile in to use her phone… after all, it was hailing outside and he said he was stranded. She had made him coffee, got him a warm blanket and sat him in front of the fire to dry and warm up. She had retrieved her phone and handed it to him before going to fetch him a plate of food as his stomach had called out its hunger, he had even looked sheepishly down with a crooked grin and Gracie had swooned at how handsome and nice he was.

He had eaten and they had laughed and talked for a while as he waited for his friend to come pick him up and his phone had charged. His phone rang and he answered, telling her his friend was getting his car towed and he had to go meet him. The hail had stopped and he had helped her tidy up, insisting even though she had told him it wasn’t necessary. She had walked him to the door and offered to drive him to his car but he had said he enjoyed a walk in the evening and the smells that filled the air after a storm. He had stepped towards her and brushed his lips over her cheek before straightening and thanking her. That’s when she knew. Gracie had gasped and he had kicked the door shut and pulled the gun from his coat pocket, killing the scream before she had even made a noise.

Now he was grinning wickedly as he held the knife millimetres from her face, turning it and resting the very point upon her face, one of the only things on her body that he had not turned into a canvas for his gruesome acts.

“You see dear Gracie, I am an ARTIST! I make the most beautiful people, more beautiful! I bring out the features that make them the creatures they are… and your eyes are your most striking feature. When I saw you at the library, I knew I had to have you. I knew I had to seal a place in history for you.” His voice sent shivers of fear down her spine. He was mad, completely and utterly padded cell worthy. He pulled out an old style quill, the type made of a feather, and dipped it into the growing puddle of crimson liquid at her feet, testing it slightly to make sure it was ready for whatever he had in store for her. He nodded to himself and smiled almost angelically, like a little boy. He reached back into his coat and pulled for a piece of creamy old style parchment paper.

“You see my dear, the media has tried to make me appear as if I am a monster. I AM NOT AS MONSTER. VAN GOUGH was a monster! HE brutalized and maimed the idea of art!” As his voice bellowed throughout the room, Gracie shuddered. She was losing consciousness as the darkness invaded her mind and sight.

“What did I say? You must be awake for the finale!” He pulled the knife swiftly across her left cheek, shocking her out of the darkness with a muffled scream through her gag. As she tried to catch her breath, he wrote on the parchment. It was then that it all registered… He was the guy that was all over the media. He was The Serial Artist, and she was the next piece to his collection. As the thoughts formed in her lagging mind, made slow from the loss of blood and shock that had clouded her every thought, he made a small cut at the top of her chest mere inches from her throat, before pressing the parchment to her chest right on the small cut, gluing it to her with her own blood.

“You have no more than five minutes before you succumb to unconsciousness from the loss of blood, and possibly another five before you can no longer function. It was a pleasure my dear.” He pulled from her mouth the gag and moved her head into the position he wanted, then he collected his things and walked away, shutting the front door behind him just as she shuddered her last breath.

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Sorry this is so short, but i write shorter chapters because i split the main points up over 2 chapters. The reason is more because i find it flows better AND allows you to put the breaks on late at night when you think "I'll stop at the end of the chapter... I really will!" (Entirely based on what i do when i read). Now I am going to put up one other chapter NOW and then i will wait to see if anyone shows interest. Otherwise I'll put a hold on this story and give my next one ago... SOOO comment and vote or i wont know if i'm wasting my time writing this instead of studying!

Thank you xx