Under the Lamplight
It’s a popular spot to meet and has been for as long as I can remember.
In the daytime, people arrange to meet here by the old lamp at the back of the park.
It’s secluded, almost secret, and behind the lamp, there’s a line of trees behind which you can engage in all those things that you wouldn’t necessarily confess to your parents.
My favourite time is much later when the lamp’s warm light is engulfed by the night and darkness spreads its blanket over the park.
I like moving stealthily along the grass verges, hidden in the shadows.
When I emerge, I’m ready, knife in hand as I scramble out from the darkness and into the lamplight.
It’s all a game of course. I could just rush out from behind my victims and get it over with, but where’s the fun in that?
I need that look of terror. I drink from the fear in their eyes. Occasionally they cry out, but usually, they collapse in silence, eyes wide open, taking their last few breaths in my icy embrace.
Then I drag them out of the light and behind the trees where they join my other exploits.
The idea of Sunday Photo Fiction is to create a story / poem or something using around about 200 words with the photo as a guide. It doesn’t have to be centre stage in the story, I have seen some where the placement is so subtle, the writer states where it is.