The Farm House

It was raining. A soft rain one might say, and in the distance a woman's silhouette could be seen as she put a candle on the window sill as a welcome sign to her lover.

In the house, the woman was getting ready for bed when she heard a loud banging coming from her front door. She walked slowly down the stairs while the knocks were getting louder until she opened the door. A man, shrouded by night; stood against the door frame, “Excuse me ma’am. I am in need of some shelter from this rain. Is there by any chance I could come in and dry off until the rain recedes?” The woman glances over his shoulder to see if there was anybody outside other than him, and against her better judgment, she welcomes him in. “Come on in. You can put your coat and hat over here on this rack. Just wait right here, close that door and I’ll be right back with a towel and a blanket to help dry you off.”, the woman said as she headed off toward the cupboards. She handed him the items and told him that he could rest his head in her guest bedroom.

In the night, soon after the woman fell asleep, the stranger had the urge to explore the house. Exiting the bedroom, he walked down a hallway looking at the picture as he passed by. Noting the layout of the house, the doors and the windows. He couldn’t help but reminisce about the past in that time. The way he would silently watch the girls he was infatuated with at that time. He would wait in the background until he had an opportunity to introduce himself. But the man had an unusual desire, a dark desire, a desire to kill. He’s killed many other women, some men, and thrived off the thrill of being caught. He liked the way they would gasp for air under his hands, their hands squeezing his wrists, eyes pleading. Their family just a room away, unaware of what is occurring in the bedroom beside them.

Lost in his thoughts, he found his way in to the woman's bedroom. He stood there and watched her chest move up and down slowly, rhythmically. He wanted to kill her, to watch as she struggled for breath. To watch as her face turned purple, so he climbed into her bed and wrapped his hands around her throat. The woman, startled and half asleep, grabbed his wrists and started kicking. The more she struggled the harder the man pressed down, watching as the struggles got less and less until her arms slumped down onto the bed and her body relaxed. Elated, he climbed off of her and stared at her until he turned around and walked out of the bedroom door. He walked down the stairs, grabbed his coat and hat and walked out the front door and never looked back.

In the twilight hours stood the woman's lover. He watched as a figure walked out of the front door and made its way over to him. Without speaking, the lover handed the strange man a handful of money, thanked him and headed toward the house. In the distance, “My pleasure” was heard, before the front door was shut. With a reserved expression, he climbed his way up the stairs and into the woman's bedroom. He stood there and stared, waiting with bated breath, to see if her chest would rise and fall, but it never did. So, he crawled up the bed, laid beside her and closed his eyes. The last thought that went through his mind was, “At least this one will never leave me.”