Blood dripped from her small sharp blade, it twinkled serenely in the moon light filtering through her window. The droplets forming a small, shallow pool beneath her elegant and expensive shoes. Her mouth was twisted up like a grimace, but not one of revulsion but of pure enjoyment.
Her eyes shone like diamonds like in a jewellery shop window, but her eyes were far more beautiful than any diamond could ever hope to be.
She flicked her creamy blond hair away from her eyes.
Now that she could see, she saw the man she had killed, laying slumped on the floor like a sleeping beggar. Perhaps he was a beggar. He certainly begged for his life before Margaret brought down the thin knife blade into his jugular. The blood had spurted out like a fountain, spraying Margaret in his warm sticky blood.
Slowly, Margaret raised the knife's blade to her lips. There was still a hint of red lipstick upon them.
With the other hand she gently brushed her lips.
"Oh my, David," Margaret said with a smile, she dropped her head to the floor to the dead man.
"It seems you've taken my lipstick from my lips, you dirty man. Oh, but not to worry I'll borrow yours."
With that said Margaret slowly rubbed the knife's bloody blade along her beautiful supple lips, smearing the blood along them. She looked like she had clowns make up on.
She laughed like it was the funniest thing she had ever said in her 20 years of life.
The pool of blood from where David lay dead had started to congeal. It had hardened quickly upon the cold surface of the wooden floor.
"Oh naughty David you made a awful mess" Margaret said as she flicked the blade down at the body and then had waved it back and forth rapidly.
Margaret stepped over the body minding not to step in the blood. She then peered out the window and into the night, a quilt of little white stars dotted the nights sky. Her blue dress from which her father had bought her for birthday shone ever so brightly in the moonlit room.
If her father were to see his young daughter now he would've hardly recognized her. She had a wicked smile that might even scare the devil. Her beautiful eyes seemed to have grown to the size of small apples and had a dull, yet see able red twinkle in them.
The blue dress her father had bought for her was from a shady dealer down one of England's back alleys. The dealer who had a irritating twitch in his eyes which seemed to buzz around uncontrollably at times, had said that the dress was from Europe and that it was made from the finest silk money could by and that you my dear sir could have it fro a fee of only 100 pounds.
The father, who was renowned around his work mates as a man who didn't like to part with his money wilfully but still loved a good bargain had said 'Deal' without a another moments thought.
The only catch that the dealer neglected to say was that the dress had been worn by a crazed woman that had murder her boyfriend and then her entire family.
Margaret watched from her window a look of dull excitement on her face.
There was a knock on the door then a voice,
"Margaret I'm home, how's the dress?" the voice of her father.
"Oh, its delightful," Margaret said cheerily as she tightened her grip upon the blade.
"Come see."
And yes, he did see.
THE END
