THE MIDNIGHT WALK... | By: akira kim | | Category: Short Story - Dark Bookmark and Share


It was a bitterly cold night, the wind swept my hair into a wild frenzy and I could just about see where I was going. The streets were totally deserted, as one would expect at midnight in the middle of a working week, however it did nothing to ease my sense of discomfort.
I was never one to delight in walking the streets alone, especially at night, and what with all the news recently about the murders occurring in this area, I felt it was best to get off the empty street and move to a more busier walkway.
The wind whistled relentlessly, as I walked passed the closed Fish & Chip shop, past the derelict houses that were in the throes of demolition, and walked towards the high street where I could see some cars and the odd pedestrian scurrying along.
As I emerged into the somewhat busier atmosphere, my spirits lifted slightly. Not far to go now.
My steps echoed on the pavement as I walked briskly towards the bus stop ahead. I knew the night buses were infrequent and the chances of one arriving in the near future were non-existent. I carried on.
As I approached the stop, I noticed a man standing there wearing a dark brown wool coat, collar up, hands in pockets, features hidden. He was lightly stamping his feet to keep out the cold and I could see the odd burst of white breath emerging from inside his collar. His hair was dark and spiky, trendy to some I would say, to me it seemed a mess, and the nearer I got the larger he seemed to be, a good 6 ft 2 I would say.
I stood nearby, not too close but close enough so that he would be aware of my presence. He turned slowly, so that I could see his dark eyes. His face was swathed in a woollen scarf, which covered half of his features so that only the bridge of his nose showed. His eyes narrowed as though he were surveying me and questioning my appearance.
A cold feeling began to creep upon me and the wind that chilled me seemed to turn my flesh into ice. I stared, my gaze never leaving those eyes. It was he who turned away, looked into the night hoping for a sign that a bus may be along soon. Tough luck sunshine, I knew the bus timetables, knew them well. I knew that it would be at least another 20 minutes before one was due and that was if they were running on time, which they never did.
I pulled the long thick bladed knife from my pocket. I silently approached the lone figure plunging the knife deep into his back before he had a chance to turn around. A dark black stain emerged pouring down from his broad back He let out a loud cry, part pain part surprise. His breathing turned guttural as he gasped for air. A car drove past but was too quick to see what was happening. I looked about me. Thankfully there were no other people around or I would have had to dispose of them too.
He dropped to the floor like a stone. He never uttered a word, never made a sound. Not like the others. Not like the woman who screamed and screamed until I cut out her tongue. Or the old man who wept as I cut off each and everyone of his fingers before finally slicing the blade cleanly across his throat.

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