Death At the Door For Sinister Contest

A slice of darkness scarred his face the killing knife a glimmer caught in hand she stumble-climbed at double pace-- Imagined warmth in family land. The key slid in –the door-- unlatched She slammed the door behind her back Her hearing keen, the silence matched-- She had avoided this attack. Shed her purse--threw down her books tossed off her coat, put on her gown Took a cup from off the hook Grabbed the whiskey and sat down Why had she ventured into this game Why had she dared to call her fate Boldly flaunted tawdry fame That drew the stalker at her gate With no one to hold her tight She felt no comfort and no worth And so she set her pen to write-- This viscious villain to unearth Rich men poor men--Mattered not But predators who stalked the weakest prey-- The clever bastards never caught Their random victims fell each day Her plan at first ignored his name Portrayed the killer without flash-- Enraged him now to play the game Teach her lesson with pinache. Computer flowed, the story done Hit send to rush it to her boss-- This would be the killer’s last His masterpiece-- her deadly cost The writer toasted her last drink The Killer conquered lock by lock She smelled his hatred in her ink-- As her death struck—on ticked the clock.