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Dark Corners/Episode 1

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He walked at a leisurely pace down the dark pavement of the quiet New Wngland suburb, the heels of his worn and dusty cowboy boots clicking on he har surface of the road.He was dressed in faded blue jeans and a denim jacket. Underneath, he wore a plain gray t-shirt. On the right breast of the jacket, he had pinned a yellow smiley face button. His greasy black hair hung down to his chest in ragged ropes. In his hand he held a straight bladed razor, tossing it up into the air, watching it twirl in a deadly circle, and catching it with a smooth sort of morbid grace.

He continued striding down the block, tossing his razor, until he came to a creme colored house near the end of the block. It was her house. The house of the woman he had been watching for days. she was worthy. It was to be her night of glorious trancendence.

He pocketed the blade as he walked up the driveway to the front door. From his jeans he pulled a silver key. He had stolen from the lady the day before. It hadn't been hard. No one ever saw him unless he wanted them to. Some called it being dim. He just knew it was part of who he was.

He slunk through the house, silent as a mouse. His already wide gring broadened at the rhyme. He passed a large bull-dog sleeping on the living room floor. The animal didn't even twitch at his passing. He came to her room.He had never been in the house before, but he knew it was her room. How did he know? Even he couldn't say. He just knew.

He entered the chambers of hi chosen, a hideous gleeful grin pasted on his face. He shut the door behind him.

He climbed onto her bed, slowly peeling back the covers. He clapped his hand over her mouth. Her eyes flw open, shining a bright blue in the moonlight streaming through the window.

"Shhhh..." he said softly. Her breathing under his palm was quick and irregular. She tried to struggle but he pinned her arms to the matress with her knees, bending closer to her face.

Her terrified gaze was only inches from his wide green eyes, eyes which seemed to glow with an unholy light.

"Hush, my dear," he cooed as he removed his razor from his breast pocket. "I won't hurt you. I've come to set you free, to release you from this pitiful mortal vessel in which you are constrained." He stroked her silky, chocolate colored hair, whispering words of comfort. She stared hypnotized into his blazing eyes. "Shhh..." he whispered.

He felt her breathing grow slower and steadier, more regular. Her eyes stared straight into his. He removed his hand from her mouth.

"Good girl..." He looked at her frightened expression. "Come on, babe," he said. "Put on your happy face."

When she saw the razor, she renewed her frenzied struggles. A high pitched scream emerged from her mouth.

He drew the blade across her throat, cutting off her shriek. He heard the dog barking in the hall, but took no notice. He placed the blade in her open mouth and made two swift slices into each cheek, turning her face into a grotesque, bloody smile.

He put the razor back in his pocket. He leaned down and kissed the face of the dead woman, tasting the cold blood in her mouth and savorin ght salty taste.

He climbed, almost seemed to float, off the bed and on to the carpet." I love you, baby," he said before he climbed out through the open window. Before turning away, he blew a kiss to her corpse. He walked forward, his boots leaving tracks in the soft soil of the garden, the insane grin still spread across his face.

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