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He smiled in the darkness.
The darkness was were he lived, where he hid.
He stepped out from the shadows.
The house smelt like cookies. It wouldn't for long.
He made his way down the stairs, making sure they didn't creak.
He gripped the axe in his hand.
As he entered the room, he felt a pang of sadness.
But just as it was there, it was gone.
He attacked.
He chopped and chopped.
Hacking away at the fireplace.
It had bothered him for years and years.
Just sitting there, with no heat.
He may have been mental, just to add wood and light it was all it needed.
But soon the fireplace was gone.
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Oooooooo I bet I got you!! You thought he was gonna kill someone, right?? :P I started to do it like that, like the Villisca Axe murder, but i decided that might be a little gruesome.
And yeah, this isn't really a poem. It could be like a free verse though. :D
