Their world is burning.
The fire in the forest, started by the cigarette dropped by a dying man, continues to burn.
I will do nothing to extinguish it.
Now, in the gloom and smoke of this new hell, I hunt.
They have attempted to hide themselves away, and I butcher them where they lay.
The soldiers are stringing wire from one fortification to the next, hoping to keep track of my movements.
But I kill the men as they establish the lines, cut those lines already laid, and wait for my prey in the shadows.
I have found a fresh set of wires. Two of them, and when I lean close, I can hear them humming with a peculiar sound. Occasionally, echoing in this smoke-filled wasteland, I can hear screaming.
There are monsters other than myself here, and they are hunting as well.
I cut the new wires, and then I sit down and wait, knife in hand.
I am not kept waiting long.
Soon, a team of two comes out. They are bent over, following the lines. Their movements are hasty, frightened. And they should be. They know that I am here, somewhere, for who else would cut the lines?
I wait for them to repair the wires, and as they prepare to leave, I attack.
My movements are swift and sure, each man dying within seconds.
Cleaning the blood off my blade, I follow the lines for a short way, and then I cut them again.
I will repeat this process until night falls, and it is too dark to see.
Then I will rest and wait.
I am not done killing.
#horror #fear #art #christmas