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I decided to excerpt one of the stories and wanted to showcase something outside my usual genres of fantasy and science fiction. I have not had a horror novel published, so that's the genre I chose. I hope you'll enjoy this little bit of nastiness.
**** WARNING: MATURE SUBJECT MATTER ****
The Hunter
Horror
Originally published in “Weirdly, Volume 1” from WildChild Publishing
He glanced up and down the dark street and saw no one. Shrugging the overcoat’s collar higher up his neck, he slipped into the shadowed alleyway. Once hidden from prying eyes, he took the mask from his pocket and put it on, adjusting it to ensure that he could see. The cool, but clear night improved his chances of finding prey.
He leaned back against the rough brick wall. And waited.
His thoughts wandered to the delights he would soon partake. The wide-eyed fear, the mouth gaping open to scream just as he crushed the lips against the teeth. Blood flowing between his fingers would be a pleasing touch. He mused about some kind of wrapping with sharp edges for his hands, perhaps gloves with barbed wire. Embedded glass would be too difficult to attach.
The sharp rap of high heels broke his reverie, and he pressed closer to the shadowed wall.
Yes, tight skirt practically exposing her buttocks, low-cut blouse plunging down to her artificially enhanced cleavage. Open-toed shoes. Just what I wanted. And, so soon. A bonus.
He stepped forward and with practiced ease wrapped his arm around her neck and pushed his palm against the bright red lips. The struggle was good. She writhed, and he heard her rasping in an attempt to breathe around his hand. Three fingers across the mouth with thumb and forefinger pinching her nostrils shut. He’d worked long and hard to make this move work every time. The effort paid off; her heaving body slumped against his.
Closed his eyes and shuddered. Too soon, too soon.
Gritting his teeth to slow his pounding pulse and quiet his lust, he dragged the near limp body deeper into the dark alley. Holding still, he waited for the chest to quit heaving, seeking air. He laid the body down almost tenderly and drew the scalpel from its hiding place. Slipping its edge under the top button of her blouse, with a twitch of his wrist, the button flew away into the darkness.
Work slowly. No need to rush. Savor every moment. He sighed. It took so little time these days; he’d become too practiced at his art.
Maybe something different? Should I start at the bottom, just for variety’s sake?
Kneeling beside her, his gaze roamed down her legs to her feet. Smooth. White. Red toenails. Perfect. He lifted the edge of the short skirt, exposing lacy red panties.
Crotchless. How crude.
Using the scalpel with finesse, he sliced open the skirt and the panties. His eyes caressed her shaved pubes, and he imagined her dressed in a schoolgirl’s outfit.
Plaid skirt and a white blouse.
He sighed again and pressed the scalpel down just above her slit. He started to cut upwards on her soft belly.
An arm wrapped around his neck and snapped his head backwards. Twisting to look down at the whore’s face, he couldn’t quite make it out. She was no longer lying flat on the ground, but sitting up with a strong forearm around his throat.
He dropped the scalpel and tried to raise his hands, hoping that would be enough for her to let him go, to run away. Instead, she pulled him up and his feet no longer touched the filthy cement of the alley. Held up by his neck, he gasped, trying to draw air into his lungs. The grip on his neck was too tight–lack of air turned his vision red and he felt his eyes bulge. The last thing he heard was a howl close by his ear. A howl that would turn blood cold. A howl calling a pack to fresh meat.
HAPPY END OF THE WORLD!
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