Chapter one.

The woman scurried down the street, pressing her bleeding left knee with her slender hand and stealing quick looks behind her. She knew he was following her. The lampposts at her side offered no guidance; they all stood silently, their heads fogged with dust as if they existed in a place forgotten by time.

She gasped louder as she pulled her wounded leg behind her, unable to bear it anymore. The pain surged through her lower body and blurred her eyes. She wished for a voice to offer her a temporary refuge in the ever-increasing coldness of the night, but the buildings that surrounded her were all stark and dim as the trees facing them.

After sometime, she glimpsed the light of a far store she quickened her pace towards it. Footsteps emerged behind her. Afraid to turn her eyes from the store, she struggled faster down the street, convincing herself that it was just the sound of her high heels over the asphalt; it was just an illusion.

After falling to her knees in front of the store, she called out. “Help…someone…help me…”

A tall man appeared out of the store. He had a cigarette at his mouth. His face was brown and wrinkled; his eyes blue, narrow, and his chest bare and lined from the inside with the evident bones of his rib cage.

“He’s following me…I can’t walk…”

After placing her arm around his neck, he lifted her from under her armpit and dragged her into the store.

“What’s wrong…?” The man asked after placing her on a stool. “Who’s following you?”

“I can’t tell you…” She screamed. “Do something…please…the pain ….my feet is hurting me….help.”

“I can’t help you unless you tell me who’s following you.”

“I won’t tell you…” she screamed once again and kicked the man in his knee. The man shrieked and slapped her. Unable to balance herself over the stool, she fell to her face, crying at the ceiling. “Someone help me….” She scampered towards the door of the store. Every minute that passed, she knew, he was getting nearer to her. Soon enough, she would die.
Chapter 2

The man with the blue scar against his cheek stood at the door of the shack. It was still dark. The trees surrounding the shack shivered in the cold night air, filling the forest with furtive howling sounds. The lady escaped him this time. He would never allow it to happen the next time, but before this time came he first had to rest.

Inside the shack, he took off his black leather jacket and placed it at the hook behind the kitchen door. After standing naked in the dark, he walked to the small window above the red couch, and narrowed his eyes. He was waiting for someone important, someone that brought him news that he had been waiting for since last month.

He walked to a small table standing in the middle of the shack. He opened a small jar and took out a young girl’s ear. Slowly, he nibbled at the edges. He had been eating human flesh since he was twelve. He usually savored the soft parts like the ears and the nose.

Some minutes later, he sat down inside the small tub standing beside the door. The water was so cold like his skin and as his wounds unleashed their blood into the water, he sighed and started humming a repetitive lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was young.

He fell into a deep sleep in which he dreamt of the old lady he was trying to kill. She appeared out of a foggy street, ran at him and tugged at his throat, peeling his skin with her purple nails.

The door of the shack creaked open. He shivered, sat up and after raising the red handled knife above his head, he stepped out of the tub and walked, still naked, to the other man that went into the shack, his name was Ewan. His baldhead glimmered against the light of the small bulb that dangled down the ceiling from a white wire.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he said, “I know you were waiting for me.”

He nodded. “Have you brought it to me?”

“Yes sir,” Ewan dipped his hand into his brown jacket and tugged out a brown strand of hair. He placed it against the man’s wet shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, “Now, you mission is finished.”

Ewan’s eyes widened and he walked backward; his hands shivering. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s ok. Just calm down.”

“You won’t kill me…” Ewan yelled at his master, throwing a small stone from his pocket at his face. “I trusted you. I helped you…”

He smiled and lowered his face. “I know. That is why I will kill you. You helped me and your mission is done. You are an extra organ in the cycle of life. You should die to give space to someone else…”

“You’re mad…”

“That’s why I survive…”

Ewan’ back trembled against the door before he could turn to open it, the man with scar at his cheek, raised the knife and dipped it three times at his neck; three was his favorite number.
Chapter 3

The man with the red scar at his face was called Ivan. Twenty years ago, he used to live with his father in the same shack where he lives no

Chapter one.

The woman scurried down the street, pressing her bleeding left knee with her slender hand and stealing quick looks behind her. She knew he was following her. The lampposts at her side offered no guidance; they all stood silently, their heads fogged with dust as if they existed in a place forgotten by time.

She gasped louder as she pulled her wounded leg behind her, unable to bear it anymore. The pain surged through her lower body and blurred her eyes. She wished for a voice to offer her a temporary refuge in the ever-increasing coldness of the night, but the buildings that surrounded her were all stark and dim as the trees facing them.

After sometime, she glimpsed the light of a far store she quickened her pace towards it. Footsteps emerged behind her. Afraid to turn her eyes from the store, she struggled faster down the street, convincing herself that it was just the sound of her high heels over the asphalt; it was just an illusion.

After falling to her knees in front of the store, she called out. “Help…someone…help me…”

A tall man appeared out of the store. He had a cigarette at his mouth. His face was brown and wrinkled; his eyes blue, narrow, and his chest bare and lined from the inside with the evident bones of his rib cage.

“He’s following me…I can’t walk…”

After placing her arm around his neck, he lifted her from under her armpit and dragged her into the store.

“What’s wrong…?” The man asked after placing her on a stool. “Who’s following you?”

“I can’t tell you…” She screamed. “Do something…please…the pain ….my feet is hurting me….help.”

“I can’t help you unless you tell me who’s following you.”

“I won’t tell you…” she screamed once again and kicked the man in his knee. The man shrieked and slapped her. Unable to balance herself over the stool, she fell to her face, crying at the ceiling. “Someone help me….” She scampered towards the door of the store. Every minute that passed, she knew, he was getting nearer to her. Soon enough, she would die.
Chapter 2

The man with the blue scar against his cheek stood at the door of the shack. It was still dark. The trees surrounding the shack shivered in the cold night air, filling the forest with furtive howling sounds. The lady escaped him this time. He would never allow it to happen the next time, but before this time came he first had to rest.

Inside the shack, he took off his black leather jacket and placed it at the hook behind the kitchen door. After standing naked in the dark, he walked to the small window above the red couch, and narrowed his eyes. He was waiting for someone important, someone that brought him news that he had been waiting for since last month.

He walked to a small table standing in the middle of the shack. He opened a small jar and took out a young girl’s ear. Slowly, he nibbled at the edges. He had been eating human flesh since he was twelve. He usually savored the soft parts like the ears and the nose.

Some minutes later, he sat down inside the small tub standing beside the door. The water was so cold like his skin and as his wounds unleashed their blood into the water, he sighed and started humming a repetitive lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was young.

He fell into a deep sleep in which he dreamt of the old lady he was trying to kill. She appeared out of a foggy street, ran at him and tugged at his throat, peeling his skin with her purple nails.

The door of the shack creaked open. He shivered, sat up and after raising the red handled knife above his head, he stepped out of the tub and walked, still naked, to the other man that went into the shack, his name was Ewan. His baldhead glimmered against the light of the small bulb that dangled down the ceiling from a white wire.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he said, “I know you were waiting for me.”

He nodded. “Have you brought it to me?”

“Yes sir,” Ewan dipped his hand into his brown jacket and tugged out a brown strand of hair. He placed it against the man’s wet shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, “Now, you mission is finished.”

Ewan’s eyes widened and he walked backward; his hands shivering. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s ok. Just calm down.”

“You won’t kill me…” Ewan yelled at his master, throwing a small stone from his pocket at his face. “I trusted you. I helped you…”

He smiled and lowered his face. “I know. That is why I will kill you. You helped me and your mission is done. You are an extra organ in the cycle of life. You should die to give space to someone else…”

“You’re mad…”

“That’s why I survive…”

Ewan’ back trembled against the door before he could turn to open it, the man with scar at his cheek, raised the knife and dipped it three times at his neck; three was his favorite number.
Chapter 3

The man with the red scar at his face was called Ivan. Twenty years ago, he used to live with his father in the same shack where he lives no

Chapter one.

The woman scurried down the street, pressing her bleeding left knee with her slender hand and stealing quick looks behind her. She knew he was following her. The lampposts at her side offered no guidance; they all stood silently, their heads fogged with dust as if they existed in a place forgotten by time.

She gasped louder as she pulled her wounded leg behind her, unable to bear it anymore. The pain surged through her lower body and blurred her eyes. She wished for a voice to offer her a temporary refuge in the ever-increasing coldness of the night, but the buildings that surrounded her were all stark and dim as the trees facing them.

After sometime, she glimpsed the light of a far store she quickened her pace towards it. Footsteps emerged behind her. Afraid to turn her eyes from the store, she struggled faster down the street, convincing herself that it was just the sound of her high heels over the asphalt; it was just an illusion.

After falling to her knees in front of the store, she called out. “Help…someone…help me…”

A tall man appeared out of the store. He had a cigarette at his mouth. His face was brown and wrinkled; his eyes blue, narrow, and his chest bare and lined from the inside with the evident bones of his rib cage.

“He’s following me…I can’t walk…”

After placing her arm around his neck, he lifted her from under her armpit and dragged her into the store.

“What’s wrong…?” The man asked after placing her on a stool. “Who’s following you?”

“I can’t tell you…” She screamed. “Do something…please…the pain ….my feet is hurting me….help.”

“I can’t help you unless you tell me who’s following you.”

“I won’t tell you…” she screamed once again and kicked the man in his knee. The man shrieked and slapped her. Unable to balance herself over the stool, she fell to her face, crying at the ceiling. “Someone help me….” She scampered towards the door of the store. Every minute that passed, she knew, he was getting nearer to her. Soon enough, she would die.

Chapter 2

The man with the blue scar against his cheek stood at the door of the shack. It was still dark. The trees surrounding the shack shivered in the cold night air, filling the forest with furtive howling sounds. The lady escaped him this time. He would never allow it to happen the next time, but before this time came he first had to rest.

Inside the shack, he took off his black leather jacket and placed it at the hook behind the kitchen door. After standing naked in the dark, he walked to the small window above the red couch, and narrowed his eyes. He was waiting for someone important, someone that brought him news that he had been waiting for since last month.

He walked to a small table standing in the middle of the shack. He opened a small jar and took out a young girl’s ear. Slowly, he nibbled at the edges. He had been eating human flesh since he was twelve. He usually savored the soft parts like the ears and the nose.

Some minutes later, he sat down inside the small tub standing beside the door. The water was so cold like his skin and as his wounds unleashed their blood into the water, he sighed and started humming a repetitive lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was young.

He fell into a deep sleep in which he dreamt of the old lady he was trying to kill. She appeared out of a foggy street, ran at him and tugged at his throat, peeling his skin with her purple nails.

The door of the shack creaked open. He shivered, sat up and after raising the red handled knife above his head, he stepped out of the tub and walked, still naked, to the other man that went into the shack, his name was Ewan. His baldhead glimmered against the light of the small bulb that dangled down the ceiling from a white wire.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he said, “I know you were waiting for me.”

He nodded. “Have you brought it to me?”

“Yes sir,” Ewan dipped his hand into his brown jacket and tugged out a brown strand of hair. He placed it against the man’s wet shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, “Now, you mission is finished.”

Ewan’s eyes widened and he walked backward; his hands shivering. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s ok. Just calm down.”

“You won’t kill me…” Ewan yelled at his master, throwing a small stone from his pocket at his face. “I trusted you. I helped you…”

He smiled and lowered his face. “I know. That is why I will kill you. You helped me and your mission is done. You are an extra organ in the cycle of life. You should die to give space to someone else…”

“You’re mad…”

“That’s why I survive…”

Ewan’ back trembled against the door before he could turn to open it, the man with scar at his cheek, raised the knife and dipped it three times at his neck; three was his favorite number.

Chapter one.

The woman scurried down the street, pressing her bleeding left knee with her slender hand and stealing quick looks behind her. She knew he was following her. The lampposts at her side offered no guidance; they all stood silently, their heads fogged with dust as if they existed in a place forgotten by time.

She gasped louder as she pulled her wounded leg behind her, unable to bear it anymore. The pain surged through her lower body and blurred her eyes. She wished for a voice to offer her a temporary refuge in the ever-increasing coldness of the night, but the buildings that surrounded her were all stark and dim as the trees facing them.

After sometime, she glimpsed the light of a far store she quickened her pace towards it. Footsteps emerged behind her. Afraid to turn her eyes from the store, she struggled faster down the street, convincing herself that it was just the sound of her high heels over the asphalt; it was just an illusion.

After falling to her knees in front of the store, she called out. “Help…someone…help me…”

A tall man appeared out of the store. He had a cigarette at his mouth. His face was brown and wrinkled; his eyes blue, narrow, and his chest bare and lined from the inside with the evident bones of his rib cage.

“He’s following me…I can’t walk…”

After placing her arm around his neck, he lifted her from under her armpit and dragged her into the store.

“What’s wrong…?” The man asked after placing her on a stool. “Who’s following you?”

“I can’t tell you…” She screamed. “Do something…please…the pain ….my feet is hurting me….help.”

“I can’t help you unless you tell me who’s following you.”

“I won’t tell you…” she screamed once again and kicked the man in his knee. The man shrieked and slapped her. Unable to balance herself over the stool, she fell to her face, crying at the ceiling. “Someone help me….” She scampered towards the door of the store. Every minute that passed, she knew, he was getting nearer to her. Soon enough, she would die.

Chapter 2

The man with the blue scar against his cheek stood at the door of the shack. It was still dark. The trees surrounding the shack shivered in the cold night air, filling the forest with furtive howling sounds. The lady escaped him this time. He would never allow it to happen the next time, but before this time came he first had to rest.

Inside the shack, he took off his black leather jacket and placed it at the hook behind the kitchen door. After standing naked in the dark, he walked to the small window above the red couch, and narrowed his eyes. He was waiting for someone important, someone that brought him news that he had been waiting for since last month.

He walked to a small table standing in the middle of the shack. He opened a small jar and took out a young girl’s ear. Slowly, he nibbled at the edges. He had been eating human flesh since he was twelve. He usually savored the soft parts like the ears and the nose.

Some minutes later, he sat down inside the small tub standing beside the door. The water was so cold like his skin and as his wounds unleashed their blood into the water, he sighed and started humming a repetitive lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was young.

He fell into a deep sleep in which he dreamt of the old lady he was trying to kill. She appeared out of a foggy street, ran at him and tugged at his throat, peeling his skin with her purple nails.

The door of the shack creaked open. He shivered, sat up and after raising the red handled knife above his head, he stepped out of the tub and walked, still naked, to the other man that went into the shack, his name was Ewan. His baldhead glimmered against the light of the small bulb that dangled down the ceiling from a white wire.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he said, “I know you were waiting for me.”

He nodded. “Have you brought it to me?”

“Yes sir,” Ewan dipped his hand into his brown jacket and tugged out a brown strand of hair. He placed it against the man’s wet shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, “Now, you mission is finished.”

Ewan’s eyes widened and he walked backward; his hands shivering. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s ok. Just calm down.”

“You won’t kill me…” Ewan yelled at his master, throwing a small stone from his pocket at his face. “I trusted you. I helped you…”

He smiled and lowered his face. “I know. That is why I will kill you. You helped me and your mission is done. You are an extra organ in the cycle of life. You should die to give space to someone else…”

“You’re mad…”

“That’s why I survive…”

Ewan’ back trembled against the door before he could turn to open it, the man with scar at his cheek, raised the knife and dipped it three times at his neck; three was his favorite number.

For all book lovers. What do you think of my writing?
Chapter one.

The woman scurried down the street, pressing her bleeding left knee with her slender hand and stealing quick looks behind her. She knew he was following her. The lampposts at her side offered no guidance; they all stood silently, their heads fogged with dust as if they existed in a place forgotten by time.

She gasped louder as she pulled her wounded leg behind her, unable to bear it anymore. The pain surged through her lower body and blurred her eyes. She wished for a voice to offer her a temporary refuge in the ever-increasing coldness of the night, but the buildings that surrounded her were all stark and dim as the trees facing them.

After sometime, she glimpsed the light of a far store she quickened her pace towards it. Footsteps emerged behind her. Afraid to turn her eyes from the store, she struggled faster down the street, convincing herself that it was just the sound of her high heels over the asphalt; it was just an illusion.

After falling to her knees in front of the store, she called out. “Help…someone…help me…”

A tall man appeared out of the store. He had a cigarette at his mouth. His face was brown and wrinkled; his eyes blue, narrow, and his chest bare and lined from the inside with the evident bones of his rib cage.

“He’s following me…I can’t walk…”

After placing her arm around his neck, he lifted her from under her armpit and dragged her into the store.

“What’s wrong…?” The man asked after placing her on a stool. “Who’s following you?”

“I can’t tell you…” She screamed. “Do something…please…the pain ….my feet is hurting me….help.”

“I can’t help you unless you tell me who’s following you.”

“I won’t tell you…” she screamed once again and kicked the man in his knee. The man shrieked and slapped her. Unable to balance herself over the stool, she fell to her face, crying at the ceiling. “Someone help me….” She scampered towards the door of the store. Every minute that passed, she knew, he was getting nearer to her. Soon enough, she would die.

Chapter 2

The man with the blue scar against his cheek stood at the door of the shack. It was still dark. The trees surrounding the shack shivered in the cold night air, filling the forest with furtive howling sounds. The lady escaped him this time. He would never allow it to happen the next time, but before this time came he first had to rest.

Inside the shack, he took off his black leather jacket and placed it at the hook behind the kitchen door. After standing naked in the dark, he walked to the small window above the red couch, and narrowed his eyes. He was waiting for someone important, someone that brought him news that he had been waiting for since last month.

He walked to a small table standing in the middle of the shack. He opened a small jar and took out a young girl’s ear. Slowly, he nibbled at the edges. He had been eating human flesh since he was twelve. He usually savored the soft parts like the ears and the nose.

Some minutes later, he sat down inside the small tub standing beside the door. The water was so cold like his skin and as his wounds unleashed their blood into the water, he sighed and started humming a repetitive lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was young.

He fell into a deep sleep in which he dreamt of the old lady he was trying to kill. She appeared out of a foggy street, ran at him and tugged at his throat, peeling his skin with her purple nails.

The door of the shack creaked open. He shivered, sat up and after raising the red handled knife above his head, he stepped out of the tub and walked, still naked, to the other man that went into the shack, his name was Ewan. His baldhead glimmered against the light of the small bulb that dangled down the ceiling from a white wire.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he said, “I know you were waiting for me.”

He nodded. “Have you brought it to me?”

“Yes sir,” Ewan dipped his hand into his brown jacket and tugged out a brown strand of hair. He placed it against the man’s wet shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, “Now, you mission is finished.”

Ewan’s eyes widened and he walked backward; his hands shivering. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s ok. Just calm down.”

“You won’t kill me…” Ewan yelled at his master, throwing a small stone from his pocket at his face. “I trusted you. I helped you…”

He smiled and lowered his face. “I know. That is why I will kill you. You helped me and your mission is done. You are an extra organ in the cycle of life. You should die to give space to someone else…”

“You’re mad…”

“That’s why I survive…”

Ewan’ back trembled against the door before he could turn to open it, the man with scar at his cheek, raised the knife and dipped it three times at his neck; three was his favorite number.

Chapter one.

The woman scurried down the street, pressing her bleeding left knee with her slender hand and stealing quick looks behind her. She knew he was following her. The lampposts at her side offered no guidance; they all stood silently, their heads fogged with dust as if they existed in a place forgotten by time.

She gasped louder as she pulled her wounded leg behind her, unable to bear it anymore. The pain surged through her lower body and blurred her eyes. She wished for a voice to offer her a temporary refuge in the ever-increasing coldness of the night, but the buildings that surrounded her were all stark and dim as the trees facing them.

After sometime, she glimpsed the light of a far store she quickened her pace towards it. Footsteps emerged behind her. Afraid to turn her eyes from the store, she struggled faster down the street, convincing herself that it was just the sound of her high heels over the asphalt; it was just an illusion.

After falling to her knees in front of the store, she called out. “Help…someone…help me…”

A tall man appeared out of the store. He had a cigarette at his mouth. His face was brown and wrinkled; his eyes blue, narrow, and his chest bare and lined from the inside with the evident bones of his rib cage.

“He’s following me…I can’t walk…”

After placing her arm around his neck, he lifted her from under her armpit and dragged her into the store.

“What’s wrong…?” The man asked after placing her on a stool. “Who’s following you?”

“I can’t tell you…” She screamed. “Do something…please…the pain ….my feet is hurting me….help.”

“I can’t help you unless you tell me who’s following you.”

“I won’t tell you…” she screamed once again and kicked the man in his knee. The man shrieked and slapped her. Unable to balance herself over the stool, she fell to her face, crying at the ceiling. “Someone help me….” She scampered towards the door of the store. Every minute that passed, she knew, he was getting nearer to her. Soon enough, she would die.

Chapter 2

The man with the blue scar against his cheek stood at the door of the shack. It was still dark. The trees surrounding the shack shivered in the cold night air, filling the forest with furtive howling sounds. The lady escaped him this time. He would never allow it to happen the next time, but before this time came he first had to rest.

Inside the shack, he took off his black leather jacket and placed it at the hook behind the kitchen door. After standing naked in the dark, he walked to the small window above the red couch, and narrowed his eyes. He was waiting for someone important, someone that brought him news that he had been waiting for since last month.

He walked to a small table standing in the middle of the shack. He opened a small jar and took out a young girl’s ear. Slowly, he nibbled at the edges. He had been eating human flesh since he was twelve. He usually savored the soft parts like the ears and the nose.

Some minutes later, he sat down inside the small tub standing beside the door. The water was so cold like his skin and as his wounds unleashed their blood into the water, he sighed and started humming a repetitive lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was young.

He fell into a deep sleep in which he dreamt of the old lady he was trying to kill. She appeared out of a foggy street, ran at him and tugged at his throat, peeling his skin with her purple nails.

The door of the shack creaked open. He shivered, sat up and after raising the red handled knife above his head, he stepped out of the tub and walked, still naked, to the other man that went into the shack, his name was Ewan. His baldhead glimmered against the light of the small bulb that dangled down the ceiling from a white wire.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he said, “I know you were waiting for me.”

He nodded. “Have you brought it to me?”

“Yes sir,” Ewan dipped his hand into his brown jacket and tugged out a brown strand of hair. He placed it against the man’s wet shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, “Now, you mission is finished.”

Ewan’s eyes widened and he walked backward; his hands shivering. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s ok. Just calm down.”

“You won’t kill me…” Ewan yelled at his master, throwing a small stone from his pocket at his face. “I trusted you. I helped you…”

He smiled and lowered his face. “I know. That is why I will kill you. You helped me and your mission is done. You are an extra organ in the cycle of life. You should die to give space to someone else…”

“You’re mad…”

“That’s why I survive…”

Ewan’ back trembled against the door before he could turn to open it, the man with scar at his cheek, raised the knife and dipped it three times at his neck; three was his favorite number.

Chapter one.

The woman scurried down the street, pressing her bleeding left knee with her slender hand and stealing quick looks behind her. She knew he was following her. The lampposts at her side offered no guidance; they all stood silently, their heads fogged with dust as if they existed in a place forgotten by time.

She gasped louder as she pulled her wounded leg behind her, unable to bear it anymore. The pain surged through her lower body and blurred her eyes. She wished for a voice to offer her a temporary refuge in the ever-increasing coldness of the night, but the buildings that surrounded her were all stark and dim as the trees facing them.

After sometime, she glimpsed the light of a far store she quickened her pace towards it. Footsteps emerged behind her. Afraid to turn her eyes from the store, she struggled faster down the street, convincing herself that it was just the sound of her high heels over the asphalt; it was just an illusion.

After falling to her knees in front of the store, she called out. “Help…someone…help me…”

A tall man appeared out of the store. He had a cigarette at his mouth. His face was brown and wrinkled; his eyes blue, narrow, and his chest bare and lined from the inside with the evident bones of his rib cage.

“He’s following me…I can’t walk…”

After placing her arm around his neck, he lifted her from under her armpit and dragged her into the store.

“What’s wrong…?” The man asked after placing her on a stool. “Who’s following you?”

“I can’t tell you…” She screamed. “Do something…please…the pain ….my feet is hurting me….help.”

“I can’t help you unless you tell me who’s following you.”

“I won’t tell you…” she screamed once again and kicked the man in his knee. The man shrieked and slapped her. Unable to balance herself over the stool, she fell to her face, crying at the ceiling. “Someone help me….” She scampered towards the door of the store. Every minute that passed, she knew, he was getting nearer to her. Soon enough, she would die.
Chapter 2

The man with the blue scar against his cheek stood at the door of the shack. It was still dark. The trees surrounding the shack shivered in the cold night air, filling the forest with furtive howling sounds. The lady escaped him this time. He would never allow it to happen the next time, but before this time came he first had to rest.

Inside the shack, he took off his black leather jacket and placed it at the hook behind the kitchen door. After standing naked in the dark, he walked to the small window above the red couch, and narrowed his eyes. He was waiting for someone important, someone that brought him news that he had been waiting for since last month.

He walked to a small table standing in the middle of the shack. He opened a small jar and took out a young girl’s ear. Slowly, he nibbled at the edges. He had been eating human flesh since he was twelve. He usually savored the soft parts like the ears and the nose.

Some minutes later, he sat down inside the small tub standing beside the door. The water was so cold like his skin and as his wounds unleashed their blood into the water, he sighed and started humming a repetitive lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was young.

He fell into a deep sleep in which he dreamt of the old lady he was trying to kill. She appeared out of a foggy street, ran at him and tugged at his throat, peeling his skin with her purple nails.

The door of the shack creaked open. He shivered, sat up and after raising the red handled knife above his head, he stepped out of the tub and walked, still naked, to the other man that went into the shack, his name was Ewan. His baldhead glimmered against the light of the small bulb that dangled down the ceiling from a white wire.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he said, “I know you were waiting for me.”

He nodded. “Have you brought it to me?”

“Yes sir,” Ewan dipped his hand into his brown jacket and tugged out a brown strand of hair. He placed it against the man’s wet shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, “Now, you mission is finished.”

Ewan’s eyes widened and he walked backward; his hands shivering. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s ok. Just calm down.”

“You won’t kill me…” Ewan yelled at his master, throwing a small stone from his pocket at his face. “I trusted you. I helped you…”

He smiled and lowered his face. “I know. That is why I will kill you. You helped me and your mission is done. You are an extra organ in the cycle of life. You should die to give space to someone else…”

“You’re mad…”

“That’s why I survive…”

Ewan’ back trembled against the door before he could turn to open it, the man with scar at his cheek, raised the knife and dipped it three times at his neck; three was his favorite number.
Chapter 3

The man with the red scar at his face was called Ivan. Twenty years ago, he used to live with his father in the same shack where he lives no

Chapter one.

The woman scurried down the street, pressing her bleeding left knee with her slender hand and stealing quick looks behind her. She knew he was following her. The lampposts at her side offered no guidance; they all stood silently, their heads fogged with dust as if they existed in a place forgotten by time.

She gasped louder as she pulled her wounded leg behind her, unable to bear it anymore. The pain surged through her lower body and blurred her eyes. She wished for a voice to offer her a temporary refuge in the ever-increasing coldness of the night, but the buildings that surrounded her were all stark and dim as the trees facing them.

After sometime, she glimpsed the light of a far store she quickened her pace towards it. Footsteps emerged behind her. Afraid to turn her eyes from the store, she struggled faster down the street, convincing herself that it was just the sound of her high heels over the asphalt; it was just an illusion.

After falling to her knees in front of the store, she called out. “Help…someone…help me…”

A tall man appeared out of the store. He had a cigarette at his mouth. His face was brown and wrinkled; his eyes blue, narrow, and his chest bare and lined from the inside with the evident bones of his rib cage.

“He’s following me…I can’t walk…”

After placing her arm around his neck, he lifted her from under her armpit and dragged her into the store.

“What’s wrong…?” The man asked after placing her on a stool. “Who’s following you?”

“I can’t tell you…” She screamed. “Do something…please…the pain ….my feet is hurting me….help.”

“I can’t help you unless you tell me who’s following you.”

“I won’t tell you…” she screamed once again and kicked the man in his knee. The man shrieked and slapped her. Unable to balance herself over the stool, she fell to her face, crying at the ceiling. “Someone help me….” She scampered towards the door of the store. Every minute that passed, she knew, he was getting nearer to her. Soon enough, she would die.

Chapter 2

The man with the blue scar against his cheek stood at the door of the shack. It was still dark. The trees surrounding the shack shivered in the cold night air, filling the forest with furtive howling sounds. The lady escaped him this time. He would never allow it to happen the next time, but before this time came he first had to rest.

Inside the shack, he took off his black leather jacket and placed it at the hook behind the kitchen door. After standing naked in the dark, he walked to the small window above the red couch, and narrowed his eyes. He was waiting for someone important, someone that brought him news that he had been waiting for since last month.

He walked to a small table standing in the middle of the shack. He opened a small jar and took out a young girl’s ear. Slowly, he nibbled at the edges. He had been eating human flesh since he was twelve. He usually savored the soft parts like the ears and the nose.

Some minutes later, he sat down inside the small tub standing beside the door. The water was so cold like his skin and as his wounds unleashed their blood into the water, he sighed and started humming a repetitive lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was young.

He fell into a deep sleep in which he dreamt of the old lady he was trying to kill. She appeared out of a foggy street, ran at him and tugged at his throat, peeling his skin with her purple nails.

The door of the shack creaked open. He shivered, sat up and after raising the red handled knife above his head, he stepped out of the tub and walked, still naked, to the other man that went into the shack, his name was Ewan. His baldhead glimmered against the light of the small bulb that dangled down the ceiling from a white wire.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he said, “I know you were waiting for me.”

He nodded. “Have you brought it to me?”

“Yes sir,” Ewan dipped his hand into his brown jacket and tugged out a brown strand of hair. He placed it against the man’s wet shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, “Now, you mission is finished.”

Ewan’s eyes widened and he walked backward; his hands shivering. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s ok. Just calm down.”

“You won’t kill me…” Ewan yelled at his master, throwing a small stone from his pocket at his face. “I trusted you. I helped you…”

He smiled and lowered his face. “I know. That is why I will kill you. You helped me and your mission is done. You are an extra organ in the cycle of life. You should die to give space to someone else…”

“You’re mad…”

“That’s why I survive…”

Ewan’ back trembled against the door before he could turn to open it, the man with scar at his cheek, raised the knife and dipped it three times at his neck; three was his favorite number.

Chapter one.

The woman scurried down the street, pressing her bleeding left knee with her slender hand and stealing quick looks behind her. She knew he was following her. The lampposts at her side offered no guidance; they all stood silently, their heads fogged with dust as if they existed in a place forgotten by time.

She gasped louder as she pulled her wounded leg behind her, unable to bear it anymore. The pain surged through her lower body and blurred her eyes. She wished for a voice to offer her a temporary refuge in the ever-increasing coldness of the night, but the buildings that surrounded her were all stark and dim as the trees facing them.

After sometime, she glimpsed the light of a far store she quickened her pace towards it. Footsteps emerged behind her. Afraid to turn her eyes from the store, she struggled faster down the street, convincing herself that it was just the sound of her high heels over the asphalt; it was just an illusion.

After falling to her knees in front of the store, she called out. “Help…someone…help me…”

A tall man appeared out of the store. He had a cigarette at his mouth. His face was brown and wrinkled; his eyes blue, narrow, and his chest bare and lined from the inside with the evident bones of his rib cage.

“He’s following me…I can’t walk…”

After placing her arm around his neck, he lifted her from under her armpit and dragged her into the store.

“What’s wrong…?” The man asked after placing her on a stool. “Who’s following you?”

“I can’t tell you…” She screamed. “Do something…please…the pain ….my feet is hurting me….help.”

“I can’t help you unless you tell me who’s following you.”

“I won’t tell you…” she screamed once again and kicked the man in his knee. The man shrieked and slapped her. Unable to balance herself over the stool, she fell to her face, crying at the ceiling. “Someone help me….” She scampered towards the door of the store. Every minute that passed, she knew, he was getting nearer to her. Soon enough, she would die.

Chapter 2

The man with the blue scar against his cheek stood at the door of the shack. It was still dark. The trees surrounding the shack shivered in the cold night air, filling the forest with furtive howling sounds. The lady escaped him this time. He would never allow it to happen the next time, but before this time came he first had to rest.

Inside the shack, he took off his black leather jacket and placed it at the hook behind the kitchen door. After standing naked in the dark, he walked to the small window above the red couch, and narrowed his eyes. He was waiting for someone important, someone that brought him news that he had been waiting for since last month.

He walked to a small table standing in the middle of the shack. He opened a small jar and took out a young girl’s ear. Slowly, he nibbled at the edges. He had been eating human flesh since he was twelve. He usually savored the soft parts like the ears and the nose.

Some minutes later, he sat down inside the small tub standing beside the door. The water was so cold like his skin and as his wounds unleashed their blood into the water, he sighed and started humming a repetitive lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was young.

He fell into a deep sleep in which he dreamt of the old lady he was trying to kill. She appeared out of a foggy street, ran at him and tugged at his throat, peeling his skin with her purple nails.

The door of the shack creaked open. He shivered, sat up and after raising the red handled knife above his head, he stepped out of the tub and walked, still naked, to the other man that went into the shack, his name was Ewan. His baldhead glimmered against the light of the small bulb that dangled down the ceiling from a white wire.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he said, “I know you were waiting for me.”

He nodded. “Have you brought it to me?”

“Yes sir,” Ewan dipped his hand into his brown jacket and tugged out a brown strand of hair. He placed it against the man’s wet shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, “Now, you mission is finished.”

Ewan’s eyes widened and he walked backward; his hands shivering. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s ok. Just calm down.”

“You won’t kill me…” Ewan yelled at his master, throwing a small stone from his pocket at his face. “I trusted you. I helped you…”

He smiled and lowered his face. “I know. That is why I will kill you. You helped me and your mission is done. You are an extra organ in the cycle of life. You should die to give space to someone else…”

“You’re mad…”

“That’s why I survive…”

Ewan’ back trembled against the door before he could turn to open it, the man with scar at his cheek, raised the knife and dipped it three times at his neck; three was his favorite number.

I’ve tried to convince myself this is just my imagination, but it’s just not working anymore.

He promised me he would quit smoking and go on the patch. He swears up and down he’s been cigarette free and I don’t believe that for a second. For starters, every time he goes into the bathroom and shuts the door, it smells like a bar men’s room when he comes out. I smell FRESH SMOKE (meaning not embedded in the furniture or clothing) all over our apartment at random times and he, for the life of him, can’t tell me where it came from or tries to make me think he can’t smell it when I know he can. Not to mention, I found one butt in our toilet he obviously meant to flush.

I’m really trying to be the support that he needs. But the fact that he may be lying to me makes me really angry. How can I support someone who might not be telling the truth?
Also:

It would piss me off more if he were saying "I’m quitting" and not actually be doing it than if he just went right ahead and smoked. And I’ve told him this. I would much rather let him do it in front of me than put up this front like he’s really trying.

PROLOGUE
They say you can only trust two people in the world: a child and a drunk.

The swaying figure stood before the door, stumbling in search for his key in what seemed an endless myriad of pockets. It’s odd how you always manage to discover new pockets on your clothes when your drunk at three A.M. After a thorough, all too fruitless attempt to find the holy key, Damaz Sanchez took a deep breath. The former boxer, the once inspired poet, writer, and painter, began to knock gently on the door and call out his wife’s name. Their relationship had been under strain for about a year now…and somehow…well, showing up drunk again…no, he didn’t think this was going to be good.

PRELUDE(PART 1)
What the authorities heard later, on that dark Autumn night, from the front door neighbor coincided with the victim’s report. The neighbor was a gaunt, tired old man who chain-smoked two packs a day and was convinced that The Blessed Little Baby Jesus was currently making his way to Earth on a fiery horse driven chariot.
“I saw everything, yes I did.” He exclaimed “May God and all the little angels strike me down if I didn’t. was standing right there, smoking me a cigarette”
The young police officer, tall and slowly growing in a mustache, was busily writing everything down in a yellow office pad.
“ I could hear my TV show was comin’ back from commercial, see, so as I was putting my cigarette out, I saw him come straight outta nowhere”
“Was he armed?” interrupted the cop.
“yes, sir.“ the old man nodded “Yes he was, He was carryin this big ol stick, looked like one of them police batons.”
A few minutes later, the call was put out to every officer on patrol to be on the lookout for a tall Hispanic man, between 175 to 190 pounds. Approximately 26 years of age. Considered armed and dangerous. Armed, according to the victim and the eyewitness with a blunt object.

PRELUDE/INTRO
30 minutes later, a hit and run was reported near the outskirts of old downtown. Old Downtown was that part of the city where all the old planes went to crash and burn, you catch my drift? Every major city has one. It’s that part of town which consist of the homeless, the hopelessly addicted, a few freaks and crazies and the cheapest, noisiest dive bars. The car left behind was a black 89 ford mustang GT with a primer splotch on the front side panel on the passenger side. It coincided with that in the description of the fugitive. As the sirens blared past all the scurrying citizens of this bizarre kingdom, somewhere in a comfortably worn-in cushion stool sat Damaz Sanchez. In the belly of one of the many bars, a tale of heartbreak was getting ready to be told. He looked tired but relieved. He was sipping a beer, bleeding lightly from the nose. He half halfheartedly smiled at the bartender and began to relate his strange and eventful tale.
The premise is that this guy goes to his house drunk finds his wife gone and suspect her of cheating. (prologue)

Eventually He finds out she is, He stakes them out and attacks the lover (prelude 1)

he leaves the scene and goes to a bar, where he knows the police will eventually come.(intro)
Thanks for your time. I added all those characteristics because in the actual story I want him to be a literary, a failed artist.
But I see that maybe It shouldn’t be all highlighted in one spot.
I dig the ‘stash remark. ha ha
Thanks for your time and support Gabe. Im currently entertaining a title or two but nothing concrete. I have most of the story in my head, but what I have on paper is what you read.

PROLOGUE
They say you can only trust 2 people in the world: a child and a drunk.

The swaying figure stood before the door, stumbling in search for his key in what seemed an endless myriad of pockets. It’s odd how you always manage to discover new pockets on your clothes when your drunk at three A.M. and in desperate need to go in your house and use the can. After a thorough, all too fruitless attempt to find the holy key, Damas Sanchez took a deep breath. The former boxer, the once inspired poet, writer, and painter, began to knock gently on the door and call out his wife’s name. Their relationship had been under strain for about a year now…and somehow…well, showing up drunk again…no, he didn’t think this was going to be good.

PRELUDE(PART 1)
What the authorities heard later, on that dark Autumn night, from the front door neighbor coincided with the victim’s report. The neighbor was a gaunt, tired old man who chain-smoked two packs a day and was convinced that The Blessed Little Baby Jesus was currently making his way to Earth on a fiery horse driven chariot. “I saw everything, yes I did.” He exclaimed “May God and all the little angels strike me down if I didn’t. was standing right there, smoking me a cigarette” The young police officer, tall and slowly growing in a mustache, was busily writing everything down in a yellow office pad. “ I could hear my TV show was comin’ back from commercial, see, so as I was putting my cigarette out, I saw him come straight outta nowhere” “Was he armed?” interrupted the cop “yes, sir.“ the old man nodded “Yes he was, He was carryin this big ol stick, looked like one of them police batons.”
A few minutes later, the call was put out to every officer on patrol to be on the lookout for a tall Hispanic man, between 175 to 190 pounds. Approximately 26 years of age. Considered armed and dangerous. Armed, according to the victim and the eyewitness with a blunt object.

PRELUDE/INTRO
30 minutes later, a hit and run was reported near the outskirts of old downtown. Old Downtown was that part of the city where all the old planes went to crash and burn, you catch my drift? Every major city has one. It’s that part of town which consist of the homeless, the hopelessly addicted, a few freaks and crazies and the cheapest, noisiest dive bars. The car left behind was a black 89 ford mustang GT with a primer splotch on the front side panel on the passenger side. It coincided with that in the description of the fugitive. As the sirens blared past all the scurrying citizens of this bizarre kingdom, somewhere in a comfortably worn in soft cushion stool sat Damas Sanchez. In the belly of one of the many bars,a tale of heartbreak was getting ready to be told. He looked tired but relieved. He was sipping a beer, bleeding lightly from the nose. He half halfheartedly smiled at the bartender and began to relate his strange and eventful tale.
The premise is that this guy goes to his house drunk finds his wife gone and suspect her of cheating. (prologue)

He finds out she is and attacks the lover (prelude 1)
he leaves the scene and goes to a bar, where he knows the police will eventually come.(intro)
Your suggestion in consistency is noted and the break in dialogue sounds like a good practical idea. Thanks.
The compliment is fully appreciated. Thanks for your time.