Cereals (OOC)

I am a serial killer. And since this is the internet, I don't mind letting it out. I usually go out at night, looking for that special someone who fits my fantasy, torture, then brutally kill her while she begs for her life. But that's not what I like about it. This city is full of lousy houses, poor neighborhoods and half-lit alleys. The quiet is a pleasure to my ears, as I use all senses to hunt. I convince a security guard to let me through the university gates, so I can lurk around hallways which, during the day, are full of students. And then I see my mark.

Tonight, I'm a serial killer. But yesterday I was a stalker. And tomorrow I might be a thief. Rarely, when I'm truly bored, I'm a vampire. It's the lurking I like, the walking around with the pocket knife and impractical long black coat I bought for this purpose alone, even though it's humid and hot at nights, on November. Once the couple appeared at the university grounds, I follow them, as quietly as I possible can, walking on the soft edges of my feet so I don't make any noise while walking. A fantasy book character I like walks like this, but in the book, he is the hero, and in my imagination, I'm the villain.

Listening on their conversation is the most interesting part of the adventure. Usually I eavesdrop on dull, day-to-day conversation, even though the night is half passed, and the moon isn't shining as much as it did earlier. But tonight I've hit a jackpot, because they're talking about what they're gonna do in bed when they get back. I grow hard, and smile a smile which is half hidden behind the up-folded edges of my coat's collar. Thoughts of what I'm going to do to them once I follow them into the apartment begin to float into my head. Being not-so-creative, below average even, I think of that movie about a serial killer who's a dad, who breaks into lovers' apartments and kills them in the act. And I replace him with my image, in my mind.

I wasn't too surprised that I followed them to a place very close to my own home. I would be surprised if it was day, because honestly - what's the probability? But I'm not surprised now, because this is tonight, and I decide what happens.

They still haven't noticed me. They probably didn't even realize they should be afraid. I'm not really going to kill them, or even try to break into their apartment, but sometimes, when I walk without pretending, strangers give me odd looks. Tell me, strange people, is it a self-defense mechanism, to make the people on the street fear you? Or are you just generally impolite to strangers? So if they did see me, they'd be scared shitless, as they say in Hollywood. They'd be so scared, they wouldn't even try to attack me. They'll run.

Because it's the night, it's my reign. It's mine alone, even as I leave them be and walk back to my home, and enter my room, and take all my clothes off, and go to sleep, once again, in an empty bed.