The Haunted Traveler Vol 1 Issue 2

29
I Am The Butcher
Logan Noble
By the time that the film finishes, my lust for
them is almost painful. The lights in the theater come
up slowly, and I watch as the sea of people before me
slowly comes to life, like insects before a flame. But
I don’t care for the others. I’m focused on the couple
now, zoned in as they bend to pick up their snacks,
their garbage, and then they are moving. I follow
closely, and I admire how good they look together, so
young, so fresh, and high on life. The crowd is dense,
but I glide through. I feel like a predator, so very
strong, sleek. No one notices me. They never do.
The outside air is cold, thin, the night fully
descended. The couple is moving slowly, drifting
meekly out onto Main Street, and I stick close behind.
The town is like an illustration on a Hallmark card,
small shops and dark bistros. It is a town of tolerance,
a town free of suspicion. I am the Butcher. I roam free
here, untethered as I bring in my prey, one after the
other, their fear fresh in the air. I inhale deeply. This
night is to be different than the others. I’ve spent so
much time, practicing and honing my skills, always
such stress. But perhaps it’s the stars above my head,