Nursery Crimes

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic


Story inspired by 'Smiling Girls And Rosy Boys'.

Chapter 33 (v.1) - Predatory

Submitted: May 06, 2018

Reads: 203

Comments: 3

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 06, 2018

A A A

A A A

Smiling girls, rosy boys

Come and buy my little toys;

Monkeys made of gingerbread,

And sugar horses painted red.

 

Parents’ nightmare, there’s a danger,

Give a warning, ‘Beware the stranger’;

Don’t approach, watch where you tread

Or there will be a life of dread.

 

Predatory

He’d lurk around the periphery of the playground, trying to appear inconspicuous. He’d avoid it all together during the morning. It was mostly mothers with their toddlers that would visit then. Swings and slides, and tiny plastic climbing frames. They had little crawl tunnels too, now; a new feature since the previous year.

The noise always got to him. The piercing shrieks of delight, the laughter, would penetrate his head like a knife. The tears were tolerable, and there were always plenty of them. Lunch times, there were the local school kids; good hunting, but too crowded. And most of them were too old for his master anyway. He liked them young. And then there were the young lovers, sitting almost on top of each other on the benches. The sight of them always instilled a kind of jealous rage. He had never had a friend, let alone a girl friend; his master had seen to that.

No, the time he’d appear was late afternoon, before lots of parents returned home from work. Those that were home were usually busy cooking then, and lots of kids wandered around on their own or in groups. ‘Watch for passers-by,’ he would mutter under his breath as he kept to the shade and shadows of the trees.

Sometimes one of the bolder kids, the less wary, would approach him. Perhaps they thought he was a drug dealer or something, wanted to see what he had on offer. The age of the kids that would be seeking out drugs could be scandalously low. He’d even been asked if he had any guns for sale, any knives. Foolish kids, didn’t they know where those things would lead them. Besides, the only weapons he carried were his own and not for sale at any price.

He had to have something to attract their interest with, though. Something small, relatively untraceable. The growth in mobile phones and the forever younger age that kids were getting them was an advantage too good to miss. It wasn’t hard to steal them. People were so careless, putting them down, sticking them in loose pockets, carrying them in open bags.

If he was bored that is what he would spend his days doing. Collecting stock to take back to his master. One of the others there was skilled in making them untraceable, almost brand new. All he had to know was what the most in demand models looked like so that he could tell which were worth his taking, and which would just be scraped regardless of his efforts.

These kids were no suckers. They knew the models, they knew the prices. He had to stay on top of things to make an offer that was too good to refuse, something that would be tempting enough for them to through caution to the wind. They had to want whatever he offered enough to follow him back to the van. A quick shove, a prick of a needle, and he was away before anyone noticed.

The gates were remote controlled and he would open them with a keypad as he approached. They would swing open, allow him entry, then close behind him.

He’d drive round the back. The front of the building looked like any of the other large houses around the area. And his master was a class actor. Nobody would suspect that he was not what he seemed – a wealthy business man. The back of the building was always curtained, kept in darkness, the windows obscured.

As he stopped the van, on of the processing assistants would approach to carry the unconscious child inside. He’d go in, to his own quarters, have a rest, watch a movie, maybe have a snack. Then it would be feeding time.

The processors would have done their work, analysed the plasma type. It was important to get things like that correct in a nest of vampires.


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