Until It’s Too Late

I smile as I walk down the street, with my pocket knife, the weapon I use to slit their throats wide open.

The blade piercing the skin, the blood, the screams, look of horror in their eyes; my smile grows wider as I approach the house, pick the lock and silently open the door.

I walk through the house scanning each room for my target until I spot them, I grin as I watch my next victim, unaware of my prescience, oblivious to what I am about to do; I take the knife out of my pocket and walk closer, closer, until I am right behind my prey, I stand silently, waiting for the perfect moment.

You sit in your chair reading, in the comfort of your home; you may be getting nervous as you read this description of yourself, but you tell yourself that you are not in any real danger.

Are you?

They never find out, until it’s too late.

—
Credits to: S54321

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