In the middle of the night the innocent girls were throwing snowballs at each other. Round and round the freshly coveted cars they darted, ducking and diving to prevent being hit by a snowball. Younger snow drops fell from the cloudy night sky. Their mother opened the door from their house and yelled their names ordering them to return to their house. The tiny toddlers toddled towards their mother, holding their heads in shame, as they wanted to play in the snow. In a bid to stay warm they wrapped their arms around themselves as their feet dragged across the snow in disappointment.
The butcher scampered down the alleyway until his shadow reappeared. Lifelessly he stood at the end of the alleyway, before shuffling back so his shadow vanished again, desperately trying to hide his grotesque face. Once doing so he knelt down and scooped a handful of snow up into his hand, clenched it, then poured it into his mouth to quench his thirst. Next he dipped his hand into his pocket, where the knife lay, then pulled out a cigarette. After that he lit the cigarette, began to breathe heavily, almost panting. He shivered, as the night grew evermore cold. Parallel on both sides of him, the walls were tarnished in graffiti and the smell was like urine. Around the corner he peered with his eyes fixed upon number 13.Where the girls lived. As long as they were in there they were safe but the brutal butcher pursued his interests carefully, in hope of another victim. His elf like ears twitched at every sound as he heard the door opening. His heart pounded, he licked his lips. The chase was back on.
While the vulnerable little girls resumed playing outside, he was waiting patiently. Little footsteps splattered along the floor in all different directions as the young untroubled girls played. Happily they chased each other, laughing and giggling boisterously, unaware of the assassin’s presence. Potential danger was just around the corner. Closer and closer they grew to the beast’s hideout. Weaving in and out all over the place, picking snow off the white coated floor, before hurling it at the opposition.
Casually he dropped his cigarette on the floor before stamping on it violently. Another middle aged man strolled past the alleyway as the butcher crouched down as though he was ready to pounce. Wrapping his black coat around him he tried to make himself invisible to those around him. In case anyone was around he spied out before removing it and then recommenced his position in which he could spy upon the little ones. Gazing into the night sky, he watched the snow drops repetitively falling upon the roof tops. Deeper and deeper the snow built up, almost covering his feet whilst he stood there. Whenever the oblivious girls approached he began to breathe quicker and more intensely, so that his breath blew up like a cloud of smoke. Danger was just around the corner for the unsuspecting victims.
Yard by yard they ran. 50 yards away, 45 yards, 40 yards, closer and closer they came, naive to the threat. Their mother yelled and called them back. She told them to play in a safer environment nearer to their home. Following their mother’s instructions they reluctantly returned and the threat of the butcher deteriorated.
Since then the man sensed that he would no longer be able to pursue these girls but beckoned them over anyway by dropping sweets in a trail towards his lair down the isolated alleyway. Viciously he drew the knife from his pocket, swinging it in a swift smooth action, before kissing the blade. He was ready. Were they? Once again they made the view of them for their mother obscured after spotting the trail of sweets and subsequently they followed the trail. Closer and closer they ambled. Step by step. Walking to their deaths. They were now absent from safety. Quicker and quicker their nimble feet moved. With just the few steps of the little girls, they were evermore nearer to the old man, they were now in terrible danger.
Squelching footsteps of the snow alerted the brute’s attention. Snow fell from his boots as he shook them up and down. Quickly he appeared as if from nowhere. Yelling a battle cry he rushed towards them. Swinging the blade above his head. The girls shrieked in fear. Paralysed, they stood still, bound to one another, praying for mercy. The butcher stopped. His evil eyes set on the quivering girls. Circling them. Ready to kill. He pounced. Too quick for himself. In one violent fall, he landed flat out on the ice cold surface, howling in agony, with his face lying in the freshly fallen snow. The girls ran like they were given a new leash of life and never looked back, for this time the beast did not get its own way. The beast lay, still hungry.
