Oh how the night welcomed me. How the cold bite of the autumn wind brushed along my posture. Halloween is my favorite holiday, the time I get the strongest urges to kill. Yet, the night's embrace was only the companion to my true pleasure. My victim's eyes glared at me. A look of fear, confusion, pain. It was October the 28th, at 11:17 PM. A fitting time of death for poor Austin here. Surprisingly, he offered little resistance when I crept from the dark shade the crooked trees gave my from the moon. We were along the sidewalk of a not-so-busy residential street, and Austin was living his last moments. My boney, gloved fingers squeezed his slender throat, tighter and tighter by each second. He gurgled his last hopes, then his grip around my forearms diminished. Something about strangling gets me off. A shrink might say it's because I enjoy control over my victims, but that's false. I already have power over them. I'm one of the more- popular guys at my high school. Austin, not so much. He would be missed by family, but had few friends. I watched him for everyday last week. I knew of the terrible joy I would get from killing him, I craved it. Now, as I was killing him ever so slowly, he succumbed to my evil intentions. He was, without doubt, dead.

October the 30th, 10:37 PM. I look at my watch to mentally document my actions. Organization is the only thing that keeps me invulnerable. My next target was Sabrina, a girl I watched for quite some time now, nearly two weeks prior to Austin. She could offer some true emotion in her death. She was a girl with a good family, good fortune, and a good future. When someone has alot to lose, they offer the most intense enjoyment as they realize; this is it, I'm going to lose it all. She was walking along a sidewalk similar to the one Austin trekked. I immediately seized the chance to grab her, covering her mouth with my hand. She swiftly launched her hand to my groin. Woah! That girl landed a good punch, knocking the wind out of me! However, she only ran a few feet before I grabbed her and dragged her to the bushes again. While on her knees, I clamped my hands to her neck, crushing her windpipe. She let out a pitiful moan, meant to be a scream for help. Bathed the pale light of the street lamp, I once again had that old feeling of power, that sense that I was her angel of death. Her eyes widened as she recognized me. I found no need to wear a mask; none of my victims ever survived. She soon passed out from lack of oxygen, and her head bobbed in my hold. Last nerves, what a funny thing. Without warning, a car drove past and the headlights flashed on us. "Oh shit!", I whispered, as I dropped the body and jumped deeper into the bushes. Luckily, the car didn't notice us. I was safe for now, and with a sigh of relief, I walked home.

October the 31st, 11:52 PM. The police found both bodies of my recent victims. They've initiated a curfew in order to protect my fellow peers. The police had no idea it was me who was killing these students, but they were cracking down on every known person with a criminal record. Once again, I was safe from their investigation. However, everyone was done trick- or- treating in the neighborhood and a few drunk classmates of mine were still out and about. Anything to piss off the men in blue, right? At least twelve cars filled with my high school's party goers were escorted home by police, then given a citation. Wait. Here comes Tommy, another friend of mine who just was sneaking around the cops for a way home. I couldn't pass up the chance! Now was my time to satisfy my dark hunger for death. As I leapt from the bushes like some wild predator, Tommy opened a switchblade. He plunged it into my kidney, and pain shot throughout my body like a lighting bolt. I made a loud "oooaf" sound, to which Tommy's eyes met mine.
"J-John?!", he wailed in horror.
I quickly obstructed his mouth with my right hand, swung my body behind his back, removed the knife from my waist, and lashed it across his throat. The crimson liquid oozed from his jugular, and his eyes rolled into his skull before collapsing. This was too quick, too easy. I didn't get my desired fill from this night. Disappointed, I stumbled home, pushing on the wound in my side. I went to the bathroom, grabbed cotton swabs, alcohol, and medical tape. As I patched the wound up, I assured myself with the same phrase I have almost traditionally repeated every Halloween night for the past three years; "I left no evidence of my identity, of my trail. Next year will be better. Next year, I'll enjoy so much more."