The Girl with the Pink Shoes
Her
movements were so fluid, the silk on her shoes reflected the sun making them
blinding to look at. Something about her
felt sickly familiar, yet I couldn't quite grasp what. I studied her every
movement, from the way she bounced right before she went on point to the way
she blushed, and tucked an invisible piece of hair behind her ear when the
people applauded.
I found my heart racing in anticipation
as her eyes lit up at the start of the song and when the end of the song by the
end of it she had a smile as bright as the sun. I must have stayed there for at least an hour
until she was done, I walked up, dropped a few dollars in an upturned hat and
winked, whistling a short melodic tune, I turned away and headed back up the
street. She can’t say I never warned
her, I had given her my song she had been warned and I had my next target.
Now most
associate spontaneous murders as ‘an act of passion’ well I must say that I
disagree entirely. All my acts of
suicidal murders are dripping with passion but they are always well planned, and
thought out, there is nothing spontaneous about them. But passion never came without a little
sweat. Murders take a lot of planning and
for that it requires a lot of research which is why the internet is by far one
of the most wonderful inventions; it definitely makes my career easier. It did
not take long to find out almost everything I wanted to know about my street
dancer; Coritha lee Johnson, a fitted name for a beauty such as herself, a
fitted name for a victim.
