By mouth{JT}
Kayem watched as the snow blew down hard outside, making vision near impossible. He waited patiently, silent and unmoving in the bitter cold, knowing sooner or later, they would come into the empty building, trying to get out of the bitter wind and find some shelter for the night. No one had been in there in some time, and the air smelled rank and unused, shut up, with long, lingering memories of his previous kills in every shadow, giving off a slow, dank vibe of death. He often brought his victims here, and the floor showed remnants of past deaths, with small, rusty-colored blood stains that were now too numerous to count. They would still come, however; just pleased to be out of the blinding cold with the easy access of entry making it a good haven for winter’s refugees – and so he settled in, making himself comfortable.
No one officially lived here now, of course. Living here wasn’t something you advertised – not unless you wanted an early death, but Kayem knew if he waited long enough, they would indeed come. Too desperate not to. He hunkered down, barely even feeling the cold. Long years of traveling, doing this, had hardened him to the elements, and he killed without remorse, not letting sentiment or memory get in the way. He was one of those that killed for nothing more than pleasure, satisfying an intense inner desire and a tiny bit of curiosity to see how long his victims would last.
Kayem was a loner – well, killers usually are, but he had no attachments to anyone, moving around without a care or thought, pleasing only himself and travelling on when the mood took him, with no backward glances – ever. He spent most of his days resting up, preferring the shadows of the night to take his victims unaware, and tonight, he was especially alert. It was freezing cold, and they would come. As he waited, he closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, reviewing the feeling in his mind, still fresh, of that first kill long ago. How sweet it had tasted, taking him by surprize with the way it intoxicated his senses. Right from the first one, he was hooked, needing that rush to sweep through his body time and time again, never getting enough of it. The only thing that made him feel alive.
He actually salivated at the thought of killing. It had been a long time, and sure enough, there it was – that slight tentative noise that told him they were here. Possibly a family, from the sounds of it, now getting stronger as they tumbled in from the cold, bitter night, no doubt tired and confused. Slipping from the shadows he moved in silently for the first kill.
Early the next morning, the pale sunlight shone down on a sleeping Kayem, satiated into slumber, his sleek black body surrounded by at least twenty corpses.
Best damn mouser of a cat the farmer had ever had.