Post by Winters on Jul 9, 2012 10:58:52 GMT -5
The lovers curled around one another, bodies slick with sweat, hearts slowing their rapid tattoo, their breath mingling as their eyes met in the growing darkness. Moonlight was dappled on their frames as they talked quietly, barely saying anything, their bodies and hearts speaking for them. It was tacky really, to bring a girl to the lake and make love to her under the falling darkness. It sickened the stomach, and made red flash across the gaze of the watcher. Not that the couple knew they had an audience.
This had been the place for such trysts for such a long time, and the urge to murder each couple that came through was raging hotly in the veins of this person whose eyes had seen so much naked flesh. But the restraint had been formed some time ago, and it never very often snapped. Instead, there were other ways to release that rage...video games, chopping wood, even...masturbation. That particular act made flesh crawl and a shudder work down the spine of the one who watched, hidden by the trees and the ever growing darkness. Only eyes, shining like a predator in the darkness, gave way, but the pair were too wrapped up in themselves and each other to even notice.
They cooed and stroked, bodies cooling from their activities, the male rolling away from the female, the female groaning about a stone in her back, body clad only in the moonlight. The step backwards from the scene snapped a quiet twig, but the couple still failed to notice. The next step away was more carefully placed, eyes moving from their forms to the ground. Circling around them, as much as possible without moving too far away, finding a good spot. The bow in the hand of this watcher was heavy, and the hand curved around it, holding it tightly.
It wasn't often a predator such as this hunted with the bow. But after watching the glistening silver knife slick through the throat of an animal, the bow was a nice change of pace, allowing the predator to hunt prey in multiples. Squatting down, the arrow notched, the shot lined up, the string tense.
Twang.
Thud.
Scream.
Repeat.
Blood gushing onto sand and the quiet satisfaction of a hunt gone well, the moon breaking over the tops of the trees. Twang, twang, twang, thud, thud, thud...The sounds were sweet echoes in memory, blessed by moonlight.