The Wrong Date

A match lit up the dark room, illuminating the teacup candles on the table. Moments later, the candles themselves burned brightly.

"Does the electricity go out often Fred?" he asked, fork and knife skillfully slicing and stabbing the sirloin set in front of him. His blue eyes looked straight into mine, searching for the answer. He moved the fork to his mouth, and began chewing. A small amount of blood dribbled from his lips, slid down his chin, and landed on his green wool sweater. Noticing this, he quickly wiped off the blood with a napkin.

"Yeah, it happens like every week," I replied. Of course, that was a lie. I had the electricity shut off on a timer. Dark environments do wonders - they scare people, and force them to be dependent on each other.

"House in the mountains, what do you expect?" I laughed.

Zach's smile widened, "But it is really beautiful here. Nothing but trees for miles; you must really love nature."

There are no neighbors around my house, nobody to hear Zach scream. That is exactly why I bought this house. I'm glad that you like it, Zach.

"Yes, yes I do. I think environmentalism was one of our similarities, wasn't it?" Nowadays, people use smartphone apps to hook up, find dates, meet people. Makes my hobby easy, perhaps a bit too much so.

Almost makes me miss Craigslist. Almost.

"Right, now I remember! You know, we also shared a love for good meat. It's really hard to find guys who love nature and steak. And it's even harder to find a gay man who fits that bill."

The last victim was a Vietnamese girl who enjoyed jazz music and hiking. So sadly, Zach, I am not gay. Actually, I was never in love with anyone. I love myself, and that's good enough for me.

"Hah hah, yeah totally. You know, we also have one other similar interest." I personally dislike playing the 'pronoun' game, but it really works well in romantic dialogues.

"Really? What is it?"

"Good wine, that's what." Time to quit playing.

Zach smiled and nodded, seemingly eager for a chance at opening the night up to new adventures. I slowly walked into the kitchen, opened the mini-refrigerator, and grabbed a bottle of red wine. It was cheap wine, and probably tasted horrible. But what does it matter when you're unconscious. I searched my pocket, and produced a pill.

"I would be more than happy to drink, but I have to drive home, you know," Zach called from the other room.

I can sense that what he wants is an invite to stay the night. It's in the tone, the way he sighs theatrically at the end of his sentence, as if indicating that driving home is the last thing in the world he wants to do to.

Don't you worry, Zach. You will be staying here with me, forever.

"You can totally stay at my place tonight. And trust me, you will enjoy every last moment of it."

And finally, it's time. Watching the pill fizzle and disappear, I grabbed the two glasses of wine and made my way back to the dining room. So long Za-

My head hurt terribly.

"Ugh..." I moaned, blinking several times in order to sharpen the fuzzy picture in front of me. I try to move, but find it impossible. What happened? Why are my hands tied to a chair? As my vision comes back, I recognize my own basement, the place where the real business between my dates and I began.

"It was easy tracking you down, Walker." Zach's voice comes from somewhere over my shoulder. He knows my name. My real name. From what I remember, my name is supposed to be Fred Myres. "I've heard a lot about you. People in your community call you the New Craigslist Killer. I just thought you were smarter than this. I am genuinely disappointed."

"Why did you come to me?" I ask, even though I know the answer more than anyone. He came to me because he wanted to kill me. But I needed some time to get out of this situation. I had to do anything and everything I could.

"Because you people disgust me, Mr. Fred Myres, that's why." He calmly stared into my eyes as he approached. Those pretty blue eyes have now turned into those of a devil. I tried to look away, but he grabbed my face and forced me to look at him.

I laugh, unintentionally spitting in his face. "So you're one of those hero types, huh? You think you and I are so different? I tell you what, we are the same sick monsters that enjoy killing people."

Zach suddenly let my face go, and walked up to the table, where all the tools - the tools that were supposed to be for my playtime - are neatly prepared.

"But you never feel bad for killing bad guys." Zach smiled, now holding a drill-gun. The end is near for me, I can feel it. Crap, this is not good. This is not good at all. The sound of the drill spinning filled the basement.

"Please, don't do this." I desperately pleaded. I know he won't listen to me, because I never listened to any of my victims. Zach looked me in the face, the drill still spinning in his hand. Those blue eyes, they looked happier than ever.

"Oh, trust me hon, you will enjoy every last moment of it."