Murder

Their souls probably don’t even know they’re dead. 

The thought plays in his mind as he stands meters away from the burning house, watching as the charcoal-coloured smoke and blazing flames turned everything around them into ash.

He has to escape yet he risks it.

Death is an art, murder is an art – and every artist has to take the time to appreciate their work.

He takes one last look at his masterpiece and goes.

“Did you get the job done?”

He rolls his eyes at the voice in his ear.

“Well, no. I was thinking… you should come next.”

image credits to anormaux @ Tumblr