Dream

They stood before me, their hands knotted behind them, their feet bound. Ropes twisted about their waists, holding them firmly against trees. Neither of them appeared very afraid.

She was actually smiling. This angered me and I pulled the knife I'd been concealing from my pocket. The silver blade was long and it sparkled in the moonlight.

As I lifted the blade to my face, my murderous eyes reflected in it, shining grey and burning with a raging fire of fury. Holding it close to my nose, staring into the steel, I ran my finger along the sharpened edge of the blade, careful not to nick my skin. Your smile dropped.

I turned to him, the knife now by my side. His smile was fading to a frown as well. His hazel eyes were widening to the size of teacup saucers. Finally, my victims were afraid. I smiled.

"The moon is up, the stars are bright. The wind is fresh and free," I recited, unaware I'd remembered the lines of that poem. My sadistic smile was still present as I said, "Such a pity the sky had to be pretty night you died." His eyes seemed to widen a fraction more. "Such a pity she won't be," I whispered, pointing the knife at her. She whimpered, the tip of the steel only a few inches from her nose. "You believe she's so perfect? Let's mark her imperfections shall we?" The words were ice cold and designed to cut the soul.

A small step brought me toe to toe with her. "First," I said, raising the knife, "your eyes. You think they're so beautiful. They're lifeless and dull. It's like you have no soul." The blade sliced a millimeter into her skin, the tip resting in her flesh next to her left eye. Blood began dripping from around the blade. "And they're always so... big." My wrist flicked, the blade was drawn to her eyebrow. "Oops." I laughed. I picked up the knife and held it a little ways from her face. She began to cry, her tears mixing with her blood. "And why, might I ask, are your pupils always so dilated? It's really not pretty." The knife touched her flesh again, this time next to the right eye. My hands shook, the blade left a jagged line leading to her temple. Blood poured down her face like a cheesy stone fountain people put in their homes.

"Next? Your chin of course." The blade traveled down the dent in the middle of her chin, the cuts deeper this time. I continued working the knife close obvious imperfections, each slice deeper than the last, all worthy of leaving beautiful scars. Her nose, slightly off and too small for her face. Her mouth, small, line-like lips, yellowed teeth. Her acne, trails along her forehead, nose, and jaw line. Her hair, a gross color, thin, never quite right, all haphazardly cut by my tool.

Still her soulless eyes stared at me, wet with tears and blinking blood out. "You always were more afraid of being ugly than dead. Now your face will always be scarred!" I cackled, my breath leaving me in little white clouds. The air had obviously chilled but I hadn't noticed past my adrenaline filled veins. "Even in death you'll be hideous. How does it feel to know that the person that loved you the most will have this picture of you in his mind as I kill him?" She closed her eyes. "HOW DOES IT FEEL?!" I laughed. Tears were streaming with the blood. His eyes closed.

"Open your eyes!" I shrieked to them both as I moved to stand before him. they both obeyed. His breath was also leaving his mouth in white bursts. His eyes appeared more brown than hazel in the moonlight. I would miss those eyes. I cackled at the thought. "Watch him die!" I screamed to her, watching the clouds spurting from his mouth with each exhale. A cloud. Intake of breath. Cloud. With one intake the blade was pressed against his soft flesh. With a cloud of carbon dioxide the edge dipped into his skin and I drew it across his neck. Blood spewed from the slit. I stepped away just into so that not a dropped touched me. It steamed as cold night air rushed over it.