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This story will focus on a female serial killer named Raven and her odd relationship with Henry Lee Lucas. It is rated M for mature and XXX for tons of smut. This fanfic will have cussing, violence, blood, murder, and eventual BDS...
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While staring out my open car window at the passing city limits, I tilted my gaze up to the dark sky. Day had turned into night, and there were a few bright stars and a full moon hanging in the clear sky. The Earth's satellite was actually a blood moon, which I found to be pretty humorous given the situation. Old wives' tales, folklore, and superstitions have quite a bit to say about blood moons.
Stories of werewolves are woven into those legends. Myths of a higher rate of insanity, homicide, and suicide are also peppered throughout. Prophecies of the upcoming biblical apocalypse are insisted upon as well. The affliction of lunacy appears quite frequently in blood moon folklore, and what Henry and I were about to do could definitely be classified as just that. Our intentions would absolutely be labeled as a homicide when I was finished. Blood would certainly be spilled by my hand on this night.
Henry had driven out of the city to one of the surrounding highways after mentioning it would be much easier to get a hitchhiker that way. He had pointed out highways were way less cramped than city streets, and if someone's car broke down, they had no choice but to hitchhike or walk to the nearest exit to find a payphone. I had to agree with him.
At the moment, Henry was rambling about whatever was on his mind. I simply listened with the occasional, "mmm, hmm," or "uh, huh," with an added nod thrown in his direction every once in a while to let him know I was paying attention.
I enjoyed listening to Henry talk. I liked how the wheels in his head turned. I was fond of peeking into his intelligent mind and comparing his thoughts to my own. Most of the time, his thoughts were identical to mine.
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"It's true the year is 1985 and car phones and cell phones are out there, but ain't many folks got 'em," Henry said in that raspy voice of his that I loved so much. "They're expensive. Ya gotta be rich ta have 'em, and we can most likely tell by the type o' car someone drives if they have one or not. Ain't sure what the signal is like out here anyway. I'm sure it's fine in the city, but who knows out here. The further ya go into the suburbs and rural areas, the less signal there is, or there ain't a signal at all. Folks got pagers, too, but ya gotta get to a phone ta page someone or call someone back."
