The Missing
He stood in the shadows, waiting and watching. The knife in his hand was already dripping blood from its pointed tip but he didn’t notice. His fingernails were crusted in dry blood, and he hadn’t noticed this either. His eyes were dark and feral. By his feet, there was a body with all its defining features cut away. It would never be identified. After a few moments of waiting, the ground moved under the body which sank into the cobblestones beneath it. Soon, the only evidence that the body ever existed was dripping off the knife clasped in the killer’s hand.