The Carnage of a Reptilian Mind

There wasn’t a shoulder angel to stop him. There was really nothing restricting Louis. He was a man free and terribly in need of a cage. First, there was a social worker and then, somewhere deeper, closer to the base of him he was an earlier man who only obeyed the law of strength. With eight dead, it was clear that murder was not a taboo to this Louis. The knife was brown and crusty but still stainless and sharp. It was sheathed hilt down, dangling from his neck.

The woman stared at him in an almost catatonic state; she was now alone with a sadistic murderer. The bus stop was painfully quite and no one was talking on their cellphone anymore. Amidst the corpses Louis was crouched and his hands were deep in the workings of a man. He looked at the deceased’s organs with that trademark human fascination.

The social worker inside Louis was fighting back against the old man. The civilized man was wining out but the battle was drowned in sirens. Louis found himself running, hoping desperately to escape the awful noise. He was quickly subdued with the help of a stun gun, a baton and four police cars blocking every exit. They left together, with Louis in a backseat.

The rest of the woman’s evening was uneventful.

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