Read The River Runs Dry for Free Online Page B

long, black hair, hanging down over his forehead. He was staring forward in silence, waiting for his prey; waiting, always waiting.
    There was movement and his eyes widened slightly as several people stumbled out into the darkness. They were laughing and bumping into each other as their voices disturbed the night silence, fueled by alcohol. He scanned them with his watchful eyes. Two men and a woman. No, they weren't right.
    His breathing slowed again as he continued to stare forward, his expression blank. More movement. The door opened again and the noise of the bar inside could once more be heard. This time the music had stopped and all that remained was loud chatter as the few remaining people began to finish their drinks and leave.
    A large crowd piled out and his eyes scanned them all again, like a lion waiting in the grass. Yes, he was a lion, and these were his prey.
    But not these. No, these wouldn't do.
    He still waited, patiently, silently. Two more men came out. He watched on.
    The door opened again, and his eyes pricked up. Two girls, arms round each other, unsure on their legs. He looked them over from the shadows and a smile cracked in the corner of his mouth, a smile that quickly contorted into anger.
    The girls came towards him, walking across the road and past his alley down the street. Their voices grew louder, wild chatter spewing from their mouths. He could almost smell the alcohol on their breath as they passed him by, missing him in the darkness.
    They continued down the street and he slowly stepped out from the shadows and arched his head around the corner. They were still stumbling ahead, still talking loudly, disturbing the tranquil night air with their drunken, fatuous, ramblings.
    The streets around them were silent and empty now, this small town devoid of any life. It was a cesspit, a pointless hole in the middle of nowhere.
    But it would get a name. I'd give it a name.
    The man walked out from the shadows and followed behind the girls, his head ducked low as he slowly pursued them from a distance. They didn't notice. They knew nothing of the world around them. Stupid girls. Pointless lives.
    They kept walking and he kept following, his footsteps mirroring their own, staying back, slinking along in the shadows. Soon they reached a house and they stepped towards the door, fumbling with a set of keys as they struggled to fit them to the lock.
    The man's fists clenched tighter at the sight. It was a sound he was used to. The sound of keys scratching against a lock, of a drunken hand struggling to perform such a simple task.
    Eventually the girls stepped inside, falling over each other into the house and laughing. He listened closely as the door swung shut, before stepping round the corner and towards the house.
    He looked around the street so see no lights on, no sign of life. Then he turned to see a downstairs light come alive in the house ahead, the sound of the girls' chattering still audible through the walls.
    He moved in and crept up to look through the window, his eyes slowly rising up to see the girls pulling the cork from a bottle of wine and filling two glasses. He was close enough now to see them clearly, close enough to make out the shapes of their faces, the color of their eyes.
    His eyes settled on one and they burned with fury.
    Then he waited, listening to their words begin to slow and die. It didn't take long. He knew it wouldn't.
    He peered through the glass again and saw the two girls, both of them lying down now, their eyes closed, their mouths hanging open as they lay slumped across two sofas.
    The man stood up and stared for a moment, watching their chests going up and down, watching the drool begin to fall from their open mouths.
    Then he looked behind once more, quickly hovering his eyes over the surrounding houses, searching for light, searching for movement. Nothing.
    He stepped up towards the front door and twisted the handle. It opened.
    Stupid girls.
    His movements were