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In the dead of the night, the screams of the murdered were nothing more than muffled sounds to the asleep.

“Do you mind?” Mary asked her victim, “My sister is sleeping.”

The blade of her scalpel first found its way to the victim’s neck, silencing the man and leaving a pool of blood; it then penetrated the skin and sliced opened the body, revealing a vast color of red innards moving to the beat of the heart, only to stop after a short while when the heart itself was deprived of oxygen. Once this was done, she motioned her hand to one of the foreceps, removing the unnecessary and placing them in a sack, soaking itself of a bloody hue. There was more to this surgical operation, things she would not dare share with anyone, things a normal person could and would not handle very well, and she very well kept these secrets to herself. It wasn’t like she could meet anyone as morbid as her.

“Stabbing made the neck look ugly,” she whispered to herself, now staring at the empty husk of the once-human. “I will sew that in the morning, add stuffing, and adorn it with lovely clothing. And I shall call it another beautiful doll; it will be another one of my beautiful creations.”

Mary left the basement and locked it shut, hiding the key somewhere along the cracks of the walls. She walked upstairs, met by a long hallways stretching to both her left and her right. Her bedroom, along with her sister’s, was found at the right wing of the mansion, but something made her uneasy. The lady shifted herself to the left and, determined to know what it was, started walking forward, unknowing of what was hiding there. She felt a presence – multiple, actually, and unless she wanted to believe in ghosts, her first guess was that there was an intruder, someone who somehow broke in her home and stayed in the only guest room they had. She stood in front of the room before opening it.

…Blood. She could smell blood.



With slight hesitation, she turned the knob slowly, her head peeping along with a ray of light coming from the hallway. There, in the dark corner of the room, was a figure crouching, feasting away on what looked like a human, blood from its body trickling down and through the cracks of the wooden floor. Whatever creature that was, it seemed like it was almost done with its dinner, the remains of its meal thrown in a pile beside it.

She gathered up courage and entered the room, the light from her line of sight shifting to reveal that the figure was human-like; it could be an actual human, she thought, probably a cannibal who needed somewhere to hide from the outside. It was a horrible sight to see it eat, yet Mary did not flinch.

“You could’ve just left the skin and bones for me, you know,” she whispered.