Post by Killer on Sept 20, 2009 17:37:29 GMT -5
((As before, Killer is a very nasty person. He swears, he kills, you have been warned))
Killer sat on the park bench widdling with his knife. A cigarette perched between his lips and every once in a while he'd puff on it and then flick the ashes off. He held the wood steady in his hand as he widdled it down into a wooden flute. It was something he had learned in his youth from the Indians.
Killer lifted his murky brown eyes and surveyed the surrounding people. They were all so cheerful and care-free. He had a sudden urge to plunge his knife into one of their backs and watch them all scream. But no... He preferred wrapping his strong hands around their neck and squeezing until they could be squeezed no more...
Killer flicked his cigarette and threw it to the ground, where he dug it in with the heel of his boots. His boots still had Poet's blood on them. He smirked, that was a fun night. He hoped she was still laying in that lot, laying in the gutter like she deserved. Trying to charm him and act tough... He spat at the idea.
Killer sat on the park bench widdling with his knife. A cigarette perched between his lips and every once in a while he'd puff on it and then flick the ashes off. He held the wood steady in his hand as he widdled it down into a wooden flute. It was something he had learned in his youth from the Indians.
Killer lifted his murky brown eyes and surveyed the surrounding people. They were all so cheerful and care-free. He had a sudden urge to plunge his knife into one of their backs and watch them all scream. But no... He preferred wrapping his strong hands around their neck and squeezing until they could be squeezed no more...
Killer flicked his cigarette and threw it to the ground, where he dug it in with the heel of his boots. His boots still had Poet's blood on them. He smirked, that was a fun night. He hoped she was still laying in that lot, laying in the gutter like she deserved. Trying to charm him and act tough... He spat at the idea.
