The Alley and the Wooden beams
It was late, far after midnight. If there were still people on the street, they would scrabble around the bars. A few couples hung around the edge of the groups, separated in the entrance of an alley. But nobody moved further away from the light than he had to. Especially not in a side street like this one.
He had stood there for a while, watching a man and woman get down to business at the beginning of the alley. They hadn't noticed him, even though he hadn't even bothered to hide. After a few minutes, they hectic movements and groans had already got on his nerves. Wasn't it pitiful if you couldn't control yourself? They threw away all their caution. Even though they knew that he was out at night.
For a moment he considered giving them a final lesson. But it was too easy, too obvious. It would have been just a brief pleasure and he had self-control. They should consider their self lucky. If their fate was death, they would cross each other again. So he had turned away and continued on his way. There were locked doors and shutters around him. Everything was dark except for the dim light from the oil lamps. Even after the city council's order, people didn't think of filling up the lanterns. Oil was expensive and people were stupid. It was the perfect get together. Meanwhile, the city council patted themselves on the back that they had done something.
He felt an amused smile slide across his features. He would never have thought that he would have such a free hand. But he would not complain. He enjoyed his work too much for that.
Something stopped him in his way. From the corner of his eye he saw a bright light and he automatically turned in that direction. A few yards away, he could see a flight of stairs. It was lit by a single, burning oil lamp that was placed over the door. It was a narrow staircase that looked like a back entrance. His vision blurred for a moment. He could still see the stairs through the veil, but now a wide hall of blood flowed down the steps. His heart started racing and his breathing almost stopped. He already knew what his artwork would look like. He had it in front of his eyes, even when his eyes cleared again. The light should have put him off, but it attracted him. The scene would be beautifully lit.
He started to move slowly as his eyes fell on a narrow wooden beam that someone had carelessly leaned against the wall halfway up the stairs. He could hardly curb his smile. Why was it almost like they were inviting him? Whoever lived there cried out that he would visit them. And who was he that he would not comply with this request. When he reached the bar, he grabbed it as he passed. It lay good in his hand. Once at the top of the stairs, he glanced back while pulling the lock pick out of his pocket. There was no one to be seen. He started to open the lock quietly. It didn't take long for the click to tell him there was nothing between him and his pleasure. The door swung open and he stepped inside. He looked back once more, then closed the door behind him. The darkness swallowed him and silence filled the air.
Until the first screams started.