The Red Machine
Red murder tonight. Red filled his eyes, thundered down his spine and through his veins, seemed to blast from his mouth every time he exhaled an overheated breath. Tonight, he knew it couldn’t wait anymore. A nervous tension tingled in his hands, a whirlpool of confused emotion brushed aside by excitement at his imminent satisfaction. Not his satisfaction–satisfaction for the deadly machine inside of him. He had been born with a purpose, and the generous Lord Almighty had blessed him with The Machine.
Red murder tonight. Everything smelled red. The Machine.