It was one of those mysterious evenings with an ominous and foreboding feeling creeping through the dark misty-rainy curtain of night. Although it was late October, it was still rainy for the time of year and the crickets were still chirping. But even they seemed to have a shrill, false sound tonight.
By the pale dimness of the full harvest moon, a man could be seen making his way cautiously up a creaking stairway towards the attic. Every time a step would creak, he would glance warily behind him to reassure himself that no one was following or had heard the sound.
As he reached the top of the stairs, he went into a room and opened a closet. As the hinges on the door let out a violent squeak, he jumped into the shadows of a nearby corner. After a few breathless seconds of listening for footsteps, the only sound to be heard was the beating of his heart. Then, over to the door he went, removing a weighty object and carrying it down to a gloomy basement that was used for the storage of all sorts of weirdly shaped objects.
As the man drew forth a long sharp knife and lit a candle, it could be seen that it was a body that he laid on the table. Then he lit a fire under a huge black kettle. The flame flickered hesitantly for an instant and then burned strongly until the water in the pot boiled furiously.
With the knife he first cut off her beautiful golden hair and threw it in the cauldron. Then he severed her whole body into small pieces until there was no more left to burn. At this point a door suddenly turned on its hinges, making a loud grating noise. Immediately the man wheeled around and saw a little boy standing in the doorway. Gazing wide-eyed at the strange scene below, the little boy cautiously made his way down the stairs. Hesitantly he went down, one step at a time, while the man stood there rooted to the floor. Finally the little boy worked up enough courage to speak.
“Daddy, why are you cutting up that old wax model that you used for drawing? Didn’t you win the contest?”