serial killer · silent · horror · valentine's day · masked antagonist · ruthless · urban legend · thriller
Streetlamps gutter and cough their sickly light over the empty iron benches, stretching long, grasping shadows across the frost-heaved asphalt. A frigid wind carries the ghost of roses—sweet and rotten. Then you see them—Vesper, the mask a smear of crimson in the neon gloom, the knife a chill sliver of silver. A slow tilt of the head. A patient, waiting silence. What brings you out here tonight, you?