Living in an ignorant bliss, the people believed the thrashing winds and booming thunder to be just another day; little did they know, a nightmare had just been resurrected...
Over the years, one by one, unsolved murders had been popping up. The murder rates from state to state were all over the charts and according to law enforcement a serial killer was on the loose, to others, a monster.
Theories emerged anywhere from a person gone mad to a demon risen from the pits of Hell. All theories had been flawed and vastly incorrect. That is how it would stay as well, fore no one would ever know the truth.
Smart and swift was the creature. It was said that the monster was a woman of indescribable beauty. Her voice softer than silk and skin pure as snow was as they believed. Pictures they drew showed her to have long flowing hair that was darker than night and appeared weightless upon her breast. Then there were her eyes. They didn't match her soft appearance. They were cold and hard like a barrier placed over them, letting nothing out and especially nothing in.
At night children had learned to sleep with doors shut, hidden away in their blankets. They had reason to fear. Everyone knew that the children were most pure. Their souls were innocent and sweet, a favorite of the beauty.
As Winter came around, like every year, the woman makes sure she is known. The sight of blood against the crisp white snow excited her. Her excitement was the others fear. Mothers did their best to shield their kin from the evidence. The effort was in vain though.
The woman stood atop a hill overlooking the crimson stained snow. To kill, she knew, would involve no physical touch at all. Blood stains were really just a show for her amusement after she's breathed their last breath. Closing her eyes the beauty sinks back into time remembering the feel of their warmth, the spirit housed within a body. She shivers in delight and continues to gaze out at the world, reveling in the havoc of which had become known to all.
Claiming the souls of others as her own was more than a method of survival; it was an addiction. For each soul obtained the more power was given. It's humorous to the woman how at first murder was nothing more than a method of survival. Each life seemed to bring her power she soon noticed. She felt strong, gorgeous. That's when it became too much. Murder after murder and the people were at a loss of what next to do.
But not only were the people at a loss, but the woman was as well, only, she didn't know it then. Inside she felt the power and excitement coursing through her veins. Tips of the beauty's fingers tingled and heart pounded desperately, searching for a touch of ease.
Time passed by and exertion towards her body was reaching it's limit. Day by day she felt her control slipping away. The people noticed as well. Killings became messier and more frequently. Homes were no longer a safe haven.
Finally reaching her breaking point, the creature cracked. A spine tingling sound filled the air. It reached down into their depths erasing any happiness the people had known. It was the cry of a monster. Upon the hill she collapsed. Power fought inside her, mind and body fell into one. With a blanket of pure darkness everything that once was became no more.
Years passed before anything regained any sign of what use to be before such a monster was born. The peoples' ignorance had been shattered by the hard truth of reality, yet no more had they need fear the nightmare they all once witnessed. Writings, tales, and even movies had been made from their history. None reached the truth of what really did happen those many years ago, but one could guess, and so they did. All that was left was to revel in each second at hand and hope what once was, nevermore shall be.