1. The last four-poster bed
The breath of the night wind caressed the candle and coated the prison like walls in a deep chill. The noise was almost silent but it was there, hiding, trying to be heard, trying to break free. The scratching sound of the human nails against the wood. The sound so feint even the moths bathed in the moonlight of the chilled evening barely heard it. The distant cry fell short; it was under ground, buried under cold, frozen stony earth. The room was abandoned until now, cast out as not needed. The house above the stone floor was derelict and dilapidated; he knew his hidden vault wouldn’t be found. The floor was broken and cracked like the madness in his mind, he dug down finding the perfect spot to plant he first seed.
He planned it. The secure but neglected building was found first, a sanctuary to plot his malevolence. His emotional instability seemed not to matter. For the last four-poster bed was carved ready for her eternal sleep, he had watched her for weeks. Her hair a halo of natural gold, smiling in the sun as she walked along the beach path each day, she was a tease being so beautiful – the way she flaunted herself, she asked for this. He had to own her, to hold her, to keep her and finally to kill her. She tried to fight her way free of his grasp, but he had drained her of any strength that she had. He had kept her in has chamber for 3 days, with no food or drink. Her defined face now shrunken and waisted, her body frail and unable to hold her own weight. Lifeless.
He tenses his hand around the knife until his knuckles turn white. An anxious sweat, shaking with excitement and high from this sick thrill. Then stands by her side, his hand again thitening around the knife, he had the perfect grip. He felt the skins resistance against the knifes sharpened blade as he sliced though the skin of her throat, her flesh bowing down as the metal parts it effortlessly. The tick red eerie liquid now freed from her veins.
Her once beautiful conditioned hair, now red bloodstained. As he brushes it across his face, he sneers a horrid smile – he inhaled deeply. He then stood back and admired the first of his masterpieces