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March 6, 2021 at 10:21 am (This post was last modified: March 6, 2021 at 11:42 am by Foxaèr.)
The following is an adaptation on a new form of writing that I think just might be my voice.
Compare the two and let me know.
Love is not in my DNA. Born without the capacity to feel the emotion is what allows my genetic imperative for killing that much easier to accomplish.
Killing is precisely what is on my mind this early morning as I traverse the dark rooms of your house. The rooms are meticulously clean, unlike your foul consciousness that draws me toward it like a field of delicious flowers naturally attracts bees.
The stylish, modern decor entices my peripheral attention, imprinting in my mind ideas that I will later adjust in my portfolio, as I proceed in genuine specter fashion despite being rather corporeal. I feel freer, a relief from the restraints put in place by societal expectation, in my natural form while on the hunt.
I pause in the upstairs hallway when I feel as though someone catches sight of me. There is an open doorway to the right, and to the left is a night light sucking juice from the wall socket. No doubt, a young child afraid of the dark resides in the bedroom to the right. That child is yours and for some reason your child is awake.
My keen and preternatural peripheral vision penetrates the darkness and finds your daughter sitting up in bed, knees and blanket up to her chin, and wide unblinking eyes stare at me with what appears to be a mixture of wonder and fear. I slowly turn my head to face her directly, but our gazes never meet as she quickly pulls the blanket up over her head as though it is some sort of magical protection against harm from what she likely perceives to be a monster.
There is no reason to bother your innocent daughter. Anyone will dismiss her words as the nightmare imaginings of youth. Therefore, I return my attention to your mind at the end of the hallway and continue along my way toward what is fresh with corruption, a delicious smelling rot born from recent poor choices on your part.
The bedroom door soundlessly swings open at my mental command when I am still a couple of yards from the threshold, and the door comes to an abrupt stop before the knob makes contact with the wall.
The master bedroom, once I cross into it, receives only a cursory glance from me before I look at the two of you lying in the king size bed. Husband and wife, but it is you whom I primarily focus on as I approach your side of the bed.
It is immediately apparent that your little girl resembles you more than your husband, which is probably for the best considering that the man is not the most handsome individual. His is the kind of face that is easy to overlook due to how homely it is. You, in stark contrast, have a classic attractiveness that can better grace the silver screen than what shallowly passes for beauty in the twenty-first century.
I feel the weight of a familiar stare on me. Without taking my gaze from you who resembles an angel only superficially, I mentally nudge the door until it closes. In the morning, your daughter will tell the authorities that a monster came to kill you. No one will believe her, of course, because children are known to have fanciful imaginations. Your daughter will grow to know the truth deep down while also accepting from everyone around her that she merely had a dream of the monster’s presence in the house.
I climb up onto the bed and I sit on your chest where I cross my legs beneath me. I stare down at you and allow your fetid thoughts and memories to permeate my mind.
You are dreaming of your most recent adventure.
The beach is crowded, which makes the prospect of what you are about to do much more exciting. You take notice of your daughter playing safely in the sand with her friends, and then you slip into the crowd of people both wading and swimming in the water. Your appearance tends to not draw much attention from anyone, considering that there are plenty of beautiful, scantily clad women at the beach. Their inattention to your movements, especially when you keep your breasts out of sight underwater, allows you to search for the prime target of your deepest desire.
Even though their attention is elsewhere, you keep an eye on everyone as best you can. Success is what provides you with a rush as nothing else can, but that does not ensure another success. You still have to be vigilant, because no doubt as soon as you momentarily drop your guard you will get caught.
When you find your target, however, you do not immediately rush into action. You survey the area carefully, make certain that no one is watching your target, and then you dive underwater. You swim quickly, grab those tiny little legs, and then drag the kid underwater where you wrap your arms tightly around the tiny body.
You hold your breath despite the struggling body in your arms, but it is not long before you feel the final spasm of defeat as the child gives up and allows his lungs to fill with water. Feeling the body go limp sends a chill of ecstasy through you. You savor this feeling as you release the body and swim away as you put some distance between yourself and your latest victim.
When the panic ensues, you will simply be another parent in the crowd.
Your eyes snap open, but you do not see me. You look around, wondering why you are unable to move or speak. I allow you to panic for a good minute before I add weight to my body that presses down on your chest. The panic in your roving eyes increases as you realize that you are struggling to breath.
When you are perilously close to death this is when you finally see me. Your eyes lock onto my gaze, and you want to scream. Rather quickly alternating emotions make themselves evident in your eyes as you near death. You plead for your life and then you curse me with a stare of anger. Eventually, you resign yourself to the inevitable.
A mere moment before life vanishes completely from your eyes, I lower my face toward yours to receive the bounty of your passing. A final wisp of energy is exhaled from your last breath and I consume your exquisite lifeforce.
When my hunger is satiated, I command your eyelids to close. Then I take my leave.
![[Image: Eye_Roll.gif]](https://image.ibb.co/iZnGF6/Eye_Roll.gif)
![[Image: extraordinarywoo-sig.jpg]](https://i.postimg.cc/zf86M5L7/extraordinarywoo-sig.jpg)
