He just layed there, on the ground.
His blood, pooling around him like some gruesome red sillohuette.
He looked at me, eyes teary & pleading, begging for mercy.
But did I give him any?
No. No I didn't.
I stood there, my ruby red smile grinning mockingly back at him.
The knife which cut him so deep, held with great care in my hand.
I laughed as he coughed up blood, the thick, red liquid running slowly down his chin.
He tried to speak, to beg, to curse, but alas it was all in vain.
I stood there, I watched him die. And I enjoyed every second of it.
I ran the blade across my tongue, tasting the blood, watching as it stained the silver of the metal a rusty color.
Finally, bored with waiting, I slit his throat & watched joyfully as blood spurted across the grass.
Laughing as he attempted to stop it, but not having enough strenght to move his hands an inch.
Oh it's glorious to be this maniacal!!
The_Jokers_Daughter Community Member 
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