• The man went down to answer the doorbell. Standing on the stoop was a young girl, dressed in a slinky black dress. The man stepped back and allowed her to pass.

    She was here to see his father.

    The grunts and moans started soon after she dissapeared into his room, escalating into shrieks of passion, and not soon after, pain.

    The man knew his father enjoyed the pain he inflicted. The prostitutes were coming thick and fast now, sometimes even two a night.

    Suddenly the feminine shrieks were replaced with masculine yells of horror and pain.

    The man ran up the stairs, slowing and finally coming to a stop outside his father's door, dreading the opening of the door.

    Inside was his father's body, bloody and torn, his throat rended. At first he thought the girl had gone, but then his eyes alighted on a small dove quivering on the corpse's chest.

    its feathers were the same blonde as the girl's hair.

    He stepped around the body, opened the window, and let the bird fly out into the moonlight.