Wednesday, 12 March 2014

The Cold-Blooded Killer

A glob of spit lands at the side of his overturned hat
And the beggar looks up to see a grinning man
It was the landlord, unfair and cruel
Clad in a black, expensive suit
Standing over him as if he was a pompous god
Who walks away haughtily with his bodyguards.
The beggar rises from the shadows
Walks towards a shriveled, suffering, old man leaning in the snow
Fishes out the coins he had collected from his hat
And places it into the old man's frostbitten hand
A grateful smile forming on his wrinkled, miserable face.
The beggar pulls out a sharp blade
Which glints intimidatingly in the moonlight
Hungering for the blood of the landlord in sight.
He begins to tail the man through the crowd
Stalking him like a bloodthirsty hound
For he was no beggar
He was The Cold-Blooded Killer.

The poor young boy sells fishes in the corner
Scars cover his innocent face, from the beatings of the father
Who had cast him out yelling gruffly
To earn money for the family
He hadn't slept; the whole day spent relentlessly fishing.
With arms and hands aching
And with puffy, reddened eyes he is slowly counting
The few coins he's managed to earn
But suddenly, someone snatches his purse
And the timid boy is slapped firmly
By the landlord, who sneers at him wickedly.
He watches helplessly as the bodyguards
Destroy all his precious hard work, and they depart.
The boy stares blankly at the ground
Longing dearly to be thrust deep down
But no, he could not face his father
His timid heart unable to bear anymore torture.
The killer watches as the boy faints
His grip tightening on his blade
And like a determined hunter
Follows- The Cold-Blooded Killer.

The graceful, captivating maiden buys a rose from the flower seller
And places it into the hair of her adorable younger sister
Who rushes forward and hugs her warmly
In return, her soft, delicate cheeks are kissed gently.
But their embrace is cut short
The maiden is pulled roughly by the landlord
And her sister falls heavily to the ground
The rose slipping out of her hair and falling down.
The vicious man treats the innocent maiden foully
Who desperately tries to shake free
Her little sister crying shrilly also tries to help
But her timid efforts have no effect on the wretch.
The landlord puckers his nasty lips
And kisses the maiden disgustingly against her will
Flungs her after he's done- as if she's garbage- into the snow
Before he walks away, trampling on the rose...
The maiden covers her face in humiliation and agony
Whimpers softly as she weeps hurtfully
Her little sister tries to comfort and soothe
The pain, but even her sweet, lovable voice could not heal her wounds.
An ice-cold gust of air blows
Across him as he watches the crying maiden, kneeling in the snow
The blade shaking in his hand with anger
Enough was enough, for The Cold-Blooded Killer.

Like a ravenous cougar climbing a tree
He swiftly climbs the pipe; freezing and slippery
Of the landlord's mansion
Ancient, deathly black and dull.
He stops dead as he hears dreadful shrieks of a man
Looking through a window, he sees a tied man being whipped on the back
A man who had probably not paid his debts
And not far from being dead
The ground splattered with blood
His cries for help unheard
But this was all about to end soon.
He continues forward until he reaches the window of the landlord's room
Who rests in his crimson armchair; exhausted and tired
And drinks blood-red wine in front of a burning fire
Playing with a doll, a small toddler
Who sits at the feet of her father.
She pulls at his leg wanting him to play
Annoyed, he snatches the doll and shoves her away
The toddler begins to wail loudly
At which point, the killer sneaks in softly
Stealthily walks towards his target, holding out his blade
The flames of the fire dancing on its lustrous surface.
He taps the landlord's shoulder
Who turns around, his heart leaps at the sight of the killer
And during the split-second meeting of their eyes
He feels regret for the first time in his life
The fear of all his victims burn fiercely in his heart
Before the killer slits his throat...
He gurgles sickly, grabs his neck
Searching desperately for something that would save him from death
Until his head falls to his shoulder
His lifeless eyes looking deep into the fire
Never more would he cause pain.
Wiping blood from his cherished blade
He grabs the doll from the dead father
And hands it to the cute, little toddler
Who smiles at this heroic stranger
Who had saved her from the wickedness of her father.
The killer squeezes the child's cheek lightly
Who was hugging her doll dearly
And when she looks up at the stranger
He was gone- The 'Cold-Blooded' Killer...

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

This is just brilliant.
I can't stop reading it over and over again.