Демон

The Monster Inside saw its prey from across the playground and smiled. It began to stalk the sweet, tender morsel.

Donald saw the little angel as she jumped off the swing, the petticoat of her little frock billowing sweetly around her thighs. He licked his lips nervously, glancing around out of habit. A bad one, that, it made him look exactly like the pedophile he was. He would have to break that habbit, he told himself and not for the first time. But the girl was moving, crossing the playground and waving bye-bye to her friends. It was time to hunt.

Donald slowly stood, giving the little blond-haired moppet plenty of time to pick her direction. East, she went, and East he followed. He was careful to keep a good distance, half a block or more. Enough to keep her in sight, but not so close that he actually looked like he was following her. This technique had worked successfully six… no, seven times before. He almost forgot that one in Seattle. She had been so lovely, how could he nearly forget her?

He wondered if they had found her body yet. Not that it mattered, there was nothing to connect him to her. He picked his little playthings at random, and never near his hotel. Just like this little angel.

She turned North and he followed her. His pulse was beginning to quicken, he knew. He tried to keep himself calm. Sweaty, nervous-looking middle aged men in rain coats following little girls tended to stick out in people’s minds. He raked his thinning hair over his pattern bald spot, ordering himself to calm down. As extra insurance, he pulled out his cell phone and pretended to talk into it. Pedophiles never discussed business on phones while hunting, right? Everyone knew that.

The blonde darling skipped a few steps, and then turned and walked down a flight of stairs to the lower level of a tenement. He heard the door shut behind her. No sound of a lock being thrown, and she didn’t call out to anyone. A latch-key kid then. They were the best.

Donald glanced around to see if anyone was looking, and then followed the girl down the stairs. He eased open the door and slipped inside. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the substantially dimmer light inside. The room had clearly once been a laundry room, long since abandoned to that purpose. Graffiti covered the walls. The paint was faded and peeling. A perfect place for the hunt to end.

His little blonde angel was standing near the far wall, facing him. He smiled his most reassuring smile. “Hello little girl. Can you help me?” he edged closer.

“You can help me,” she replied. The lights dimmed and some… thing… emerged from the girl: smoke and shadow and cold, with long claws and teeth like the Reaper’s Scythe.

Donald screamed.

Angie watched impassively until the Monster Inside was done and back within her. She dipped a finger in Donald’s blood and added vertical line to the twelve already present on the wall behind her.  Her dimples appeared as she smiled.