Creative Writing: A Virus

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A black figure lies on the ground. Crimson liquid pools around him. It's glossy sheen traps the lights in the streets in its surface. It really is quite beautiful. Nobody has seen my new work of art yet. They're all in their houses. They all seek heat against the cold and comfort in their beds for safety to fall asleep. People are so predictable. Safety is a mirage. No amount of locked doors can deter determination. Yet they sleep, confident that they will grow old and live out their days in peace. I've always found it interesting how many people believe they're invincible. That is, until death grips them with its cold, desperate hands. That's why I kill. To see the realisation in their eyes. To see that small glint as they form a tear, knowing they're about to die. It's amusing. It's what keeps me from being bored.…show more content…
That moment when their flesh is found. Some scream. Some run. Some simply collapse. I always stay to watch it, that shock that ripples through them. They become a vessel for terror, sharing it with anyone they contact. It's like watching a virus spread. Except this one is in their minds. I wonder how long I'll have to wait this time. Last time it was an hour. But that had been lucky. Usually, it took a whole night of waiting. A fog leaves my mouth as I sigh. It curls before disappearing with the cold night air. Voices raise in argument from a nearby house. The man's voice is slurred, as if he is drunk. - [ ] A line of light stretches across the street as a door is opened. A woman rushes out. A man stands at the door, screaming profanities after her. Fast footsteps bounce off the pavement as she reaches to curb. Then they stop. And she
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