Like water caresses the streambed rocks, the mention of his crimes in the newspapers caressed his black heart. Carefully he clipped them all out to save in his well filled scrapbook. He got a kick out of knowing his artful displays had left the police in utter tohubohu. He’d left them no clues to follow.
He took pride in his time consuming careful preparations. Ruminating over every angle. Never acting impetus due to desire or need. Just as his master had taught him.
So he was extremely surprised when the continued news reporting and the media nicknaming him the Hieronymus Bosch killer, made him itch to complete a new art piece soon.
I might have read too many crime novels lately.
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Written for Wordle #252 at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie.
Tohubohu– a state of chaos, confusion
First – The Last Judgment
Second – Fall of the Damned