Some killers are born. Some killers are made. And sometimes the origin of desire for homicide is lost in the tangle of roots that make an ugly childhood and a dangerous youth,so that no one may ever know if the urge was inbred or induced.

He lifts the body from the back of the Blazer like a roll of old carpet to be discarded. The sole of his boots scuff against the blacktop of the parking area, then fall nearly silent on the dead grass and hard ground. The night is balmy for November in Minneapolis. A swirling wind tosses fallen leaves.

He knows he falls into the last catagory of killers. He has spent many hours, days, months, years studying hng his complusion and its point of origin. He knows what he is, and he embraces that truth.

A broken shard of moon glares down on the scene, its light faint. He arranges the body to his satisfaction and traces two intersectingg X's over the left upper chest.

With a sense of ceremony, he pours the accelerent. Anointing the dead. Symbolism of evil. His true self embraces the concept of evil as power. Fuel for the internal fire.
"Ashes to ashes"
The sounds are ordered and specific, magnified by his excitement