“We are not interested in publishing your work at this time” not again;Carl’s heart sank, his shoulders slumped. “Your work lacks passion, the characters are hollow; they feel generic.” Carl dropped the rejection letter and slid down in his chair, agony creeped up his throat “why?! Why can’t I do this?!” Carl said as his head dropped back; he gazed at the ceiling, veins bulged around his eyes as tears began to fall. This wasn’t Carl’s first rejection, Carl had grown all too familiar with these feelings of despair; the feeling that he just didn’t have the talent to put his ideas to paper. Desperation gripped Carl’s body “I will show them! I will be great! They will love my writing! The whole world will know Carl Willard!” Carl said through clenched teeth, white knuckles strangling the arms of his chair. “I’ll give them exactly what they want!” He thought as he sat up, eyes wildly looking about the room. “Come on Rufus! It’s cold, just find a place to go!” A women’s voice wafted through the late night air into Carl’s apartment. Carl stood slowly and sneaked over to the window as though the lady might see him. He peered through the blinds and saw a woman across the street, she had a small dog. Carl’s eyes gleamed and a sinister thought filled his mind “they want real characters do they? Congratulations miss, you’re going to be a star!” As Carl finished this sentence he raised his hands and accentuated “star”. Carl spent the next few weeks watching The woman’s house, studying her routine. “Mon-fri, leaves at 7am returns at 5pm; walks the dog immediately and then again at 10pm, lights out at 11pm. Sat-Sun varies but usually walks the dog at 8am, 12pm, 5pm, 10pm. Punctual, I like that.” Carl mumbled to himself as he typed her out schedule. “Cold weather we’ve been having lately.” Carl said as he passed the women. “Too cold! And Rufus loves taking his time” She said, motioning at the dog. “Rufus, what a great name! What breed is Rufus?” Carl asked, smiling as he approached the woman. “He’s a mutt, I guess you could say. I rescued him from the pound.” She said as she pulled her hood tight around her face against the cold night air. Carl looked around at the empty streets, snow falling steadily; a gust wind suddenly whipped snow in the women’s face blowing her hood backward. She closed her eyes and turned; she heard heavy footsteps through the howling wind and suddenly a crushing pain on the back of her head. “Don’t struggle, this is your big moment! You’re going to be famous!” A man’s voice echoed in her ears as she opened her eyes. She blinked at the hazy images; her head throbbing in pain, dizzy, she sat up against the wall. “You can’t get anymore real than this” The man’s voice whispered in her ear. “They want a story with emotion; with feeling, they want real characters? Well they’re going to get it” The voice had turned dark with hatred and a hint of joy. “How are we doing today?” The man’s voice woke her, he sounded happy as though she was a guest at a bnb. She opened her eyes to see the face of the man, he looked familiar but her memories were blurry still. “Are you hungry?” He asked sadistically. “I need you to eat, I need you alive until the last chapter” He said as though he was asking her to run an errand. “The book is almost finished now” he said with a smile “your big moment is almost at hand” He stretched his arms out toward her and then parted them outward to his sides. “I must hurry” he remarked calmly “I’ve noticed police officers combing your building across the street.” He peered through the blinds “I guess after a few weeks missing... no time, I must keep writing” his voice suddenly changed, as if someone had interrupted him and scolded him to continue his work. Carl placed his trembling fingers on the blinds “no one, good very good!” Carl heaved the body wrapped in blankets and double bagged in large, black trash bags, over his shoulder. He made his way down stairs and out into the dark, cold night. He placed the body in the back seat and drove off into the evening. “We are excited to inform you that we are going to publish your manuscript” Carl’s eyes filled with tears, hands trembling as he read on “your writing is filled with emotions” yes, yes he thought “and your characters are real, authentic, they grabbed us and drew us in right away.” Carl’s eyes widened with maniacal glee “I’ve done it” He growled through his teeth “I showed those bastards what I can do” Suddenly a knock at the door broke Carl’s deranged celebration. “Who could that be?” He thought as he scanned the room; his eyes stopped and scanned back a few feet “You! No, no, no I got rid of you!” His voice grumbling and cracking “you’re not here” He said, trembling all over “you’re dead” He said as he blinked his eyes rapidly “take a deep breath” Carl tried to breath deep. BANG, BANG, BANG on the door once again but louder this time “open up, this is the police!” Carl opened his eyes and looked “Aggghhh!” He let out a hair raising scream as he saw the girl, inches from his face; dried blood matted her hair together, her eyes dark and sunken. Suddenly the door flew open, crashing against the wall “help me!” Carl squealed “get her off of me, please!” His voice strained in desperation. “Calm down down, sir!” The police officers commanded as they struggled to restrain Carl. The body of the girl still lay lifeless in the corner. “You’re under arrest!” Carl smiled as they loaded him into the police car.