The audience emits a wave of happiness that shatters several windows along the bleachers. All the destruction pushes them closer to the salivating edge of insanity. They literally jump for joy as the blade inches closer to the boy’s cheek. At the last possible second, so close that the tip nips the end of his nose, the young man plummets straight to the ground. Not at the killer, or under him, just straight down.
One thing I’ve noticed during my drawn-out life is that karma is usually a slow-moving lady. She likes to take her time while delivering her syrupy-sweet vengeance.
Not this time.
This time, the blood-thirsty crowd gets to watch as the mountain of man stands impaled on the pale killer’s blade. He had been behind the boy when he...
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