The serial killer nabbed Maria on Spring Street under a moonlit night. He tied her up and shoved her in the back of his van. Her heart beat one hundred beats a minute. She knew she was going to die. She hoped he wouldn’t rape or torture her before he ended her life.
She had one chance to be rescued; she hoped it would come in time. But she knew in this life there were never any guarantees.
The serial killing sang to songs on the radio as he drove his van. She was surprised an evil man could sing so good. As he sang, she struggled to get untied and free.
The serial killer was elated. He bagged another one to torture, rape, and kill. He fantasized about the delicious things he would do with her, the excitement of hearing her beg and cry and scream – and the climatic moment she died.
He turned a corner and heard her howl like a wolf. She had gotten the duct tape off her mouth. He jammed on the brakes, jumped out of the van, throw the van doors open and a werewolf sprung out of the van and tore him into a thousand pieces. Her revenge rescue complete, Maria had added the serial killer to her kills of human monsters. Another one done. A good nights work.
Bob Boyd
