Any other story could of gone any other way, but life keeps its tragedies stored in every other heart and soul.

Cases had been spiking faster, reports of heartless murders; quite literally ‘heartless’ murders. People would be found in their last seen places with their rib cage open and their heart missing. Nobody understood why the hearts were needed but they at least understood the killers motive.

The one common feature with all the murders was that every individual had some form of mental detachment. It seemed the killer went for those who were saddened and sorrowful. This pattern was noticed not shortly after 10 of the murders.

Police had scouted every perimeter possible of the town but nothing particular was found. The woods was too large to look at too. All people knew was that after dark hours were lethal to be out in.

You were walking from the train station after coming back home from the city. As usual, the streets were quiet, dimly lit and overall, calm. As you tread along the square tiles, you still felt empty as a tupperware box. Physically your heart felt as if it was artificially made, like it was the template of an original heart, hollow and paper-like. Nothing felt full, nothing felt half full. It all felt empty.

There was a small amount of rain pouring from the sky. You could feel it on your nose. The air was cold and you remained with your head tilted to face the floor, that was until you felt dreary, light headed. You lift your head to see a person stood underneath a streetlight across the road. The orange light amplified their features well. He was a male, about 6’1 with skeleton markings, bright blue eyes, a white hoodie, bloody hands, a hole where his heart was and finally, white wings.

You wondered if your hallucinations were tricking you again, but apparently not. You stared at the guy, eyes low and face unchanging. I knew it was him, the man who stole others hearts. It was obvious.