The alley was cold and dark. Abandoned tenaments prevented the sun from ever reaching the strange maze that lay between them. Alone, except for the company of a three-legged rat, the serial killer known as the Toeless knelt, rocking back and forth as a voices poured out of his mouth.
“You’ve done it this time. We’ll be caught for sure.”
“We can hide. We always hide.”
“I don’t want to, I want to get more offerings. All that’s left on our table is bones. Bony-bones.”
“Fuck the bones, I need more skin-”
“Everyone SHUT UP! I’m still in charge here.” Toeless was pretty sure that was his voice. It felt like his voice.
“Are you?” One of the voices asked mockingly.
Toeless wasn’t sure if that voice was refuting his claim of being in charge, or laughing at him trying to identify any voice as his original one. Nothing was certain after he had scrawled his name across his toes and cut his ties to them for God-protection. He collected other people’s toes now to continue his “payments”.
As of today, he was late.