As they settled down on the blanket they had spread on the floor of the loft, huddling close and holding one another, the barn door downstairs opened slowly. Soft footsteps made little sound as they move towards the stairs. The music of youthful passion covered the sounds of the measured tread moving stealthily towards the steps. A faint creak the footsteps hesitated but no, they didn't hear.

"Ohhhh…" Claudette moaned and then she stiffened slight as she felt Barry's hand fumbling with the zipper on her shorts.

"No," she said, catching his hand but not really fighting.

"Come on," said Barry, his voice plaintive, his lips gently brushed her ear.

"A Man's not made of stone, " she giggled, "Oh please," she sighed as if with resignation and released his hand. Then her eyes widened as she saw a shadowy figure standing in the darkness at the entrance to the loft.

"Somebody's there."

They both sat up in alarm, buttoning up and tucking in, smiling nervously and blushing, feeling self-conscious.

"We… we weren't doing anything," Barry said quickly. He stood up as the figure in the shadows moved towards them. He smiled guiltily and shrugged. "Hey, really we were just messing around—"

The knife plunged deep into his stomach. He gasped with pain and shock, doubling over. His hands instinctively going to the wound. The room started to spin and he fell back, landing on a roll of chicken wire, clutching his stomach. Warm blood spilt out between his fingers and ran from the corner of his mouth as life ebbed quickly. Claudette brought her hands up to her face and screamed.

The killer came towards her but it backed away, a gaze riveted to the bloody hunting knife, eight inches of steel streaked with scarlet. She couldn't tear her eyes away from it. She shook her head, unwilling to believe this was happening.

"No! Please, no!" She whimpered, darting to the left then to the right, but the killer followed her motions, blocking off escape, slowly closing the distance between them. She panicked and sought shelter behind a pile of boxes, grabbing them and throwing them, backing away, looking desperately for a way out, but she was cornered. She suddenly felt her back up against the wall and there was no escape. She screamed as she saw the gleaming knife rise in stock, its swift descent. It was like a streak of fire across her chest. A burning incandescent pain more agonizing than anything she had ever felt. The blade bit deeply, ripping through her flesh, sinking in up to the hilt. It rose again and fell and rose and fell and rose and fell, over and over. Claudette wasn't screaming anymore but still the killer hacked away like a runaway machine and over the sounds of metal thudding into flesh and bone that came a distant sounds of singing from around the campfire.

"Hang down your head, Tom Dooley… poor boy you're going to die…"

Chapter 1

Chapter 1