He stood underneath a gibbous moon, it's sickly light casting a ghoulish pallor on all it touched. The night seemed gray and dead, all vitae drained. Everything that was good and pure, turned defiled and unholy.
He looked up at the stars and raised the knife in his hand in a sardonic salute to them. The deathly half light seemed appropriate. He breathed in.
It was time.
He walked across the lawn, brown and dying, to the the front door of a house in ill-repair. He opened the door and his eyes took in the darkness and the crossed the floor to the stairs.
His eyes drifted to the portraits he knew hung on the walls. He did not pause as he ascended, but his fingers ran themselves over moments of time captured and crystallized from a life that seemed as distant and dead as the moon did tonight.
He set his feet on the landing and before he turned, he looked for one last time at the life he had known. After he walked on, he did not look back.
He walked in a room , the walls patterned with clouds and barnyard animals, painted a faded sky blue. He looked down at the occupants. A woman, haggard from a life of hardship, her face prematurely lined. At her side were two children. Twins, beautiful in their symmetry and their youth, purity embodied. One of them stirred and opened her eyes. She looked at him through the veil of sleep, confusion in her eyes, emerald green in hue.
"Shhh honey, Daddy's here."
"I can't sleep."
He reached over and smoothed her tousled golden locks.
"Hush little baby don't you cry,
Daddy's gonna make it all okay,
And even if he couldn't buy you that diamond ring,
Daddy's gonna take away all your pain."
As his lasts words faded into silence, she closed her eyes and turned over.
He looked then, upon his family, for the last time, drinking them in. He inhaled, and raised his knife.
And then the killing began.