Serial Ire


The stranger watched her from across the train, the beautiful woman’s face was engrossed in a book entitled “The Lambeg Incident”.  The dark night from the window illuminated her beauty, the occasional strike of light from outside bounced off her soft hair.

His dark beady eyes looked from under his blue cap, his coat had many secrets as it was a long overcoat.  It looked filthy.  His brown hair greasy and scruffy while his little green eyes gazed hungrily at this woman.

The stranger noticed the way her long brown hair flowed freely as if it moved of its own accord.  Almost like he was gazing upon a beautiful medusa, her bright blue eyes piercing every page of her book.

Her bright red lipstick that complimented her genetic make-up and the slow rises of her chest were noticeable to this man sitting far away.

The stranger felt agitated at how beautiful she was, how easy it was for her to move through the world without problem.  He loved her and he hated her.

The bell went off to indicate the next stop was approaching, the beautiful woman swiftly closed her book, grabbed her brown bag and put it in.  She glanced around as to find her exit, she stood up and walked towards the nearest door.  She was coming towards the stranger.

She saw him, she smiled a faint smile.

He gave a crooked smile back, awkward and less beautiful.  As she went past she dropped her bag, as she bent down she revealed her top body.  Her breasts were in full view of the stranger, he looked lustful and the woman caught him at the last moment. 

She pulled up embarrassed, her face a deep shade of red.  Turning her back to the door she couldn’t wait to get out.  The stranger was behind her now, she knew it and could feel his breath on her neck.  He was hunting and she was his victim, the train wasn’t full but she wanted off. 

The doors opened and she rushed off, the stranger calmly walked off and saw her go the opposite direction.  He smiled as he looked at his watch.  23:56.

He walked out the other direction of the platform and found the exit.  He waited there until this woman realised her error.  The London air was warm and stagnant, the rubber from tyres could be smelt for miles as well a the fish from the markets.

A cigarette burning as a lone candle in this cosmopolitan jungle, the animals slept as this predator roamed.  He looked at his watch after a while 00:13.

Just then he heard the lone steps of the woman, her high heels echoeing through the tunnel.  He hid beside the entrance near some empty boxes.

The woman emerged and walked a few steps, she lit a cigarette and took a few deep draws.  The stranger revealed a crowbar he had concealed in his coat.  He walked calmly behind the woman and smacked her over the head with the bar.  A solid crack was heard and the woman was down.

Her bag dropped to the floor and out spilled the contents, her blood spilling out and through the contents.  Her book seeped up blood like a mop, the killer bent down and took the book in his hand.  He read a paragraph at random and chuckled silently.  He dropped the crowbar and left the scene with the book.

He muttered “lust of the bust turns to dust”.  He silently walked away without anyone or anything noticing the killer.

The victim lay face down, her pretty face drenched in blood.  Eyes wide open in an amazed expression, the glimmer of a soul eradicated. 

Such a pretty face…gone. gone forever.

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