The sky around me is quiet. The stars are grey, they don't twinkle. The moon is a bland orb in the sky.

The water doesn't glisten. The fire doesn't burn. The silver of your eyes don't send shivers down my spine.

Your blood doesn't flow. A pool of silver kisses at my feet. A shard of glass. A fragment of metal.

You gasp. I laugh.

"You think this is torture?" I shriek. "You don't know what torture is." Malicious are the words, dripping from my tongue. This was what it felt like to kill someone. I like it.

A shard sticks from the boys body. He must only be nine or ten, but he deserves to die.

He stole my last turkey.