• Darkness

    The teen-aged girl sat on a bench in the middle of the park. She looked to be about thirteen or fourteen. Her shoulder-length hair hid her face from view as she sat writing in a large spiral notebook. The few people still in the park this close to night, passed by without a single glance at her. No one seemed to even notice her existence. Or at least, so it appeared.
    There she is again, the man thought. Everyday, she sits in the same exact spot writing in that notebook.
    From his hiding spot within the poorly trimmed bushes, he watched her silently.
    A stick cracked loudly and the girl looked up, startled out of her reverie. Her cheaply dyed black hair fell out of her face revealing a pair of startled blue eyes. They quickly darted from side to side in an attempt to locate the source of the sound.
    The man tensed in apprehension. Then from the bushes a good five feet to the left of where he was secluded, a squirrel scampered out and up a tree. The girl relaxed and went back to writing in her notebook.
    ********, that was a little too close for comfort, the man thought. The past three months of following her would have been for nothing if I was caught now.
    Waiting for the darkness of the night to fall so that the girl would get up to leave, was one of the hardest things that the man had done in a long time.

    Once he had decided upon a target, and when to act, the waiting right before it actually happened was the worst. It had been nearly 2 years since the last time, so it was that much more agonizing.

    Merely to pass the time, the man took an assessment of his surroundings. As it was mid-June, all the trees were green and full creating a patchwork of shadow and light across the ground. The closer to nightfall it was, the more indistinguishable the differences in the shadow and light became.
    As happened many times before, when it finally became too dark to see to write, the girl got up and started walking down the path to the more secluded part of the park where the paths were longer and less taken care of.
    Why is that young innocent girls never seem to know not to wander off alone, in the woods, after dark? he wondered. Not that I'm complaining...
    Honestly, he didn't know why but it always seemed to work to his advantage. He just had to make his move carefully when the opportunity presented itself.
    Ahead of him, the girl stumbled over a gnarled tree root and fell, dropping her notebook and sending her mechanical pencil flying.
    A chance just like that, he thought and smiled slightly.
    The man walked towards the girl with a look of concern on his face. Picking up her notebook and pencil, he asked, "Are you alright?"
    She sat up and looked up at him.
    "Damn, I twisted my ankle on that stupid root. Honestly, aren't these paths supposed to be taken care of? This is a state park after all. Whoever gets paid for that should seriously lose their job."
    "I agree. Can you stand on it at all?"
    The girl rolled her eyes.
    "We'll see, won't we? Do you think you could possibly give me a hand?"
    The man smiled and held out a long-fingered hand to assist her. She stood slowly and gingerly put weight on her injured ankle.

    Smiling, she said, "It's not all that bad. I think I can walk home without a problem. Thanks for helping me up. Now, what did you say your name was?"
    The man smiled back, only it was no longer a smile more than it was a sneer.
    "Oh, I didn't say. My name is Henry, but you aren't going to need to remember it for very long."
    Slight confusion and a small portion of fear crept into the girl's eyes.
    "W-w-why is that?" she stammered.
    Henry's sneer, for that was what it was, became wider and more menacing.
    "That would be because you aren't going to live too awful much longer. So there's not really much point in you knowing, now is there?"
    The girl's face flooded with pure genuine fear. Henry could feel her trying to free her arm from his iron grip.
    "Now, must you put up a fuss? Not that I entirely mind, but it will only make it worse for you. Wouldn't you prefer it to be painless and quick?"

    Henry watched her eyes grow wider with panic as she struggled again to get free. She opened her mouth as if to scream, and Henry clamped his other hand firmly over her mouth.

    “What good would that do you? You and I both know that there's no one near enough to hear you anyways. But, even still, none of that or I will make it that much more painful for you.”
    Realization dawned on the girl's face and Henry reveled in her look of utter despair and hopelessness.
    From the inside pocket of his jacket, he pulled out the long knife he'd been fantasizing about using all evening.
    Henry gazed at the deadly-looking blade with a look of almost pure lust in his eyes before pressing it to her neck lightly.

    “Oh, that's right.. I was almost forgetting something. I need a souvenir of some sorts.”

    Removing the knife from her neck, Henry takes a lock of her hair and cuts it off.

    “Now, that's everything. Please let me know if this hurts. I would hate to be the one to cause anyone extreme amounts of pain.”
    With practiced efficiency, he slits her throat before letting her drop in a heap to the ground.
    Opening the front cover of her notebook, Henry sees the name Lizbeth written in curly purple letters on the front page.

    “Ah, Lizbeth. Such a pretty name. It's a shame that you will never hear it again. Quite a pity.”

    Tossing the notebook carelessly to the ground, Henry watches Lizbeth's life pour out of her. Paying close attention to the dimming of her blue eyes, so that he knows the exact moment when the darkness takes her.