"Insanity can only be achieved when all the shreds of sanity are degraded to fine strings which snap one by one."
The quiet lane was hazy in the afternoon heat. Leafy trees shaded large homes, the sidewalk and road newly paved. Exotic gardens and white picket fences dotted the suburb. Colorful songbirds fluttered over the street in a small flock. Each bird moving in unison with one another. A small playground filled a space between two houses, however the children were long gone. A single car cruised past, the creaks of a garage door opening and the grinding of wheels over gravel meeting few ears.
A figure slowly walked up the sidewalk, his footsteps echoing throughout the heavenly neighborhood. His face was concealed behind a leprechaun mask. A sinister and mischievous smile was engraved in the plastic. He wore a long green nightgown that reached just above his ankles and black steel-toed boots.
The man stopped in front of a house numbered 201 and twisted his head towards the paved walkway that led to the front door. He approached the door and hesitated a moment before gently grasping the doorknob and delicately twisting the gold-painted knob. The door swung open on newly oiled hinges, unlocked. Of course, the figure knew. And The Leprechaun was never wrong. He entered the home, not bothering to close the door.
His boot gently made contact with the wooden boards of the guest room. He slowly passed an ornate desk, flooded with family photos. Olive green cushions and glass coffee tables stood near tall embroidered drapery. The tiled kitchen floor was scrubbed clean, a pot of water over the stove, just reaching a rolling boil. A dirty plate sat alone on the table. His feet padded up the stairs, past a wall of pictures.
He reached the main bedroom door. A thick blade was drawn from his waist, a butcher's knife, a yellow smiley face pasted on the front. The Leprechaun had never cleaned the blade. He grinned underneath his mask, looking down on the dried and splattered entrails of his past victims, staining the smiling face red. He grasped the fine wooden handle, listening intently, ear to the door. He heard a single person tossing and turning in bed, muttering about the heat. The time had come.
He twisted the knob, savoring the moment. He pushed. The door flew off its hinges, propelled by his sudden burst of adrenalin. He leaped into a richly carpeted room, flying onto a king sized bed with sheets of a rosy striped pattern, directly onto a middle aged man in a rough gown. His blade went to work, slowly at first, carving neat little circles, enjoying the man's agony and surprise. The blunt end smashed down on his arm, splintering bone. He screamed, a touch too loud for The Leprechaun's taste. A final slice slit his throat, splattering shining red onto the covers, guts flying through the air, coating chairs and carpet.
He grasped the body and flung it at the shutters, splintering wood. The innocent man crashed down the brickwork and landed with a sickening crunch on the front steps. A group of birds scattered, but otherwise all was silent. But a siren flared to life in the distance. It began to get closer. And The Leprechaun knew that his time had finally come. He grinned, and collapsed onto his knees. Just then, the kettle on the stove began to whistle.
Inspired by mailn6
Try reading one of my other horror short stories;