Two Killers, Passing In The Night

I don't know if this strictly fits into the Challenge requirements, being a poem, but the challenge page doesn't specify a short story, so it's worth a shot.

A figure crept through a darkened wood

A life cut short can never grow old

Clothed in black from shoelace to hood

The dead do not feel the cold

Behind them they dragged a wrapped body so still

A life cut short can never grow old

Dead for no reason but for their killer’s will

The dead do not feel the cold

They came to a lake, the killer and slain

A life cut short can never grow old

No body or witness means none to point blame

The dead do not feel the cold

The body sank down with barely a splash

A life cut short can never grow old

But the quietest noise make the killer’s breath catch

The dead do not feel the cold

Another was there, with a corpse of their own

A life cut short can never grow old

Another dead body, cold flesh, blood and bone

The dead do not feel the cold

Their eyes met in darkness, as black as their hearts

A life cut short can never grow old

Should they silence a witness, or simply depart?

The dead do not feel the cold

“I have no quarrel with you,” their eyes seemed to say,

A life cut short can never grow old

“Forget what you saw, and we shall both walk away.”

The dead do not feel the cold

A nod and a wink, and they went on their way

A life cut short can never grow old

Another name on their list, to hunt the next day

The dead do not feel the cold

Take heed of this lesson, and you may yet thrive

A life cut short can never grow old

Two can keep a secret, if only one is alive

The dead do not feel the cold.

Two Killers crept through a darkened night

A life cut short can never grow old

Their weapons near to hand, clutching them tight

The dead do not feel the cold

Their eyes met in darkness, with the cold chill of death

A life cut short can never grow old

Before the sun rose, one would draw their last breath

The dead do not feel the cold

Under a blanket of fog, the lake water hides sins

A life cut short can never grow old

One killer departs swiftly, and one last body slides in

The dead do not feel the cold.

This originated from a writing prompt sent to me by my ex-, who liked to throw story prompts at me and watch stories come out. “A serial killer is dumping the body of his latest victim. They hear a noise, and look over to see another person doing the same thing. Their eyes meet.”

I was busy editing a book draft at the time, with a deadline looming, and Crime Fiction isn't really my go-to genre, but the meter of a song I was listening to at the time combined with the need for a break, and this was the result.

The Foggy Waters Vocal+ Challenge didn't specifically exclude poetry, only that the work had to be "a piece of short horror fiction that is set in or near a body of water."

I had to extend this poem by several new verses to meet the challenge minimum word requirements, but you can find the original here

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