The pulse of the music matched perfectly with the sway of arms and legs on the dance floor. Trails of neon yellow, green and pink light zoomed around spectators with wide eyes as the resident glow stick experts dazzled their audience. The room was filled with sweat, Vix vapor rub and puer ecstasy.
Everyone in the room had a feeling of happiness and trust. The warehouse was filled with a magical aura of acceptance and abandon. One could almost forget the big bad world in a place like this. Almost.
The shots that rang clear through the warehouse were met with expectant chaos. As dancers fled from the scene, a man in a plum colored suit simply floated down to the dance floor. He bent down over his young, shaking target. She was quite fetching with the small red bun on each side of her head. She was dressed for a party, though, she had on jeans and a small white t-shirt that had monkeys running across it. You wouldn't think she was almost 26.She was sniffling and gasping for breath. Her stomach was covered by her hands, blood oozing between her fingers.
The plum figure put his hand on her forehead and looked into her eyes. They told him that she was scared, hust and that she recognized him. He wasn't surprised, he'd been after her for months. Now he had her.
"Poor little one. Such a tragic end. Just remember, your death could not kill my love for you."
With those words he pulled a shiny silver gun out of his jacket and shot her between the eyes. After a few seconds, the figure bent back down over her limp body. He put his hands over her heart and stomach. A pure white light began to shine from underneath his hands. A whispered humming sound was coming from the light and the young girl's body was slowly rising into the air. From inside her body a pale mist rose and hovered over her body and the figure. Then it shot to the sky and disappeared.
Then everything stopped. Her body dropped with a thud back to the floor, splashing in the pool of blood that had gathered. The man stood with a frustrated look on his face. He stretched his muscles, adjusted his suit and surveyed the scene. He noticed that during this situation blood had painted the ends of his long blonde hair. He grabbed a few strands and put them to his lips. His long black tongue and licked the ends clean.
"Yum. Your soul may have escaped, but not for long. You have no body and soon you will have no soul."
He casually walked away, throwing his weapon into a disguared pile of trash.
Bonnie McCullough was dead.
