Daylight Murder

(Content Warning : Mention of Homicide)

The edge of the woods, a perfect place for a happy and merry camping spot, far from the bustling city, close to the wonder of nature. She sits on top of the branch, a strawberry flavor melts in her mouth. Her hand giddily slides across the silvery knife, reflecting the sparkling sunlight. Eyes as innocent as a newborn panda hide the bloodlust desire of a vicious alpha wolf. Covered in her army hoodie, her presence becomes one with the growing trees and thick leaves.

Footsteps and enthusiast shrieks of children approach. The never-ending rustles from the nearing family bug her leisure time. Eyebrows furrowed she’s annoyed the least to say. The parents set up an instant tent while the two kids run along chasing one another with their toys. Your casual family picnic, a bonding time, a rest from the stressful work life. She hates it. She despises seeing that cheerful expression. What a blast she’ll have when their faces scream horror, terrified by the sight of her, begging for forgiveness on their knees.

She closes her eyes, humming a lullaby while hearing the high-pitched laughter resonating through the air. She imagines them turning into a loud wailing, crying until their throats go dry when her knife penetrates the outer skin, digging deeper and deeper, thrusting inside until it dangles on their inner. Delightful. She turns her head steadily following the melody, visualizing the desperation their orbs radiate as they witness each other dying, helplessly shouting names in their last moment as blood oozes out, draining their souls until the beat stops.

Should she prey on the parents on the left first? Oh, the fear and trauma she’ll shortly paint inside the kids' hearts before they follow the adults’ trail. She’s definitely going to enjoy the confusion that strikes on their empty eyes first when their mom and dad call out, not for the burning barbeque, but the distressed screaming, telling them to run away. But where? If they do, what’s better than a fun game of hide and seek. Her ears will perk up at their cowers, her steps will shake their tiny figures in despair. When their eyes meet, she’ll enjoy the slight second dead pause and proceed to send them away, bloody.

Should she prey on the children on the right first? Oh, the dread sight waiting when the parents crane their heads around, watching their dear ones on the ground, on top of their own dark red pool of blood. The mixture of anger and sadness as they stare at her, knowing they’re under her surveillance, at the bottom of the food chain. With shaky legs, they’ll attempt to strike a knife inside her chest. What a passive move she’s taking here. The pleasure she’ll slowly find amusement in it while avoiding all the sloppy movements filled with rage. Until their body gives up physically and emotionally, she’ll hover above them in victory, finally ending the playtime, bloody.

The static radio cuts off her train of wild imagination. A stereo rolls the current news, something that always pricks her interest. She waits and waits until her last work of art is mentioned. “A man in his 30s was found dead in an alley last afternoon. Polices assume this is another victim of the ‘lollipop killer’ by the candy found in his mouth during his time of death. Citizens are told to be more careful during daylight and walk together for safety precautions.”

She scoops out a hand of lollipop from her pocket, counting them. Five. A spare one for herself. She diligently unwrapped it and puts it inside her mouth, devouring the sweet taste while listening to the free radio service. The headline comes to an end, switching to a piece of country music being played. She stops sipping on her treat, chuckling at their poor investigation and intuition. The gullible people scattered all around the world, a sea of targets for her to satisfy her savagery instinct.

A while passed and her tongue has almost nothing else to slurp on. The once fruity flavor disappeared, leaving a bitterness circling around. She’s thirsty, she’s hungry, she can’t contain the boredom anymore. “What was I thinking?” She muttered to herself. Being stuck between two options is never her style, life’s all about spontaneous decisions, a quick-witted one. She’s going to ride on the stream of time, following the one-way flow.

Tying her hair, paying attention to every strand to minimize the risk of leaving evidence, she hopped down. The last thing she wants is her identity exposed. Her feet finally touch the uneven ground. With an empty mind, she breathes the still fresh oxygen, the air before it switches to a suffocating atmosphere. By the time she exhales, a boy jogs to her, one of the children. An innocent deer walks right into the tiger’s territory. As they say, curiosity kills the cat. This little kitten just brings the entertainment to another level.

She breaks off the intense gaze, fishing a lollipop out of her pocket. Throwing away the plastic wrap, she hands over it to the boy with a masked smile. He takes it for granted and eats it heartily, not noticing the hidden claws ready to pin him down, taking his voice out of his neck. Enough of this sickening scene. She places her hands on his shoulders, turns him around, and sends him away, back to his foolish pack.

The mom beckons him to come which he happily accepts. Finding an additional thing that hangs on his teeth, she questions, “Son, where did you get this lollipop?” He flips his body, pointing towards a certain figure leaning carelessly on a nearby trunk, face covered by her hood. Suspicion flushes her, eyes already trembling. She elbows the dear husband for assurance and he peers over to her. The whole family got their eyes on her, a celebrity ready to reveal herself on the dazzling stage.

She lifts her head, showing the sharp emotionless eyes. A smirk forms, she’s feeling the heating tension created, the fun’s just getting started. The moment a knife comes into sight, they all scram in panic. Putting back the kids inside the van hastily, folding the dirty rugs below, turning off the smoky barbeque set. Oh the overwhelming desire to stay alive, she’s loving every second of it. She steps forward, hands gliding on the tip of her knife.

“It’s playtime.”