Sticker Roulette

Disclaimer: Entirely Fiction

Whoever peels this sticker from the tree is next. I am feeling festive this month, so I place Halloween stickers. A jack-o-lantern here, a black cat over there. I am excited for the possibilities. Will it be a young, 20-year-old college student, looking hot in her yoga pants? Go ahead and tease the men, but it will not be for long. Please do not let it be a businessman. Let it be his wife or mistress. I loathe killing men, but the damn sticker decides. I had to initiate the sticker game because I was getting too careless. The police had identified too many similarities of my victims. The sticker game saved me. It keeps it random. The sticker chooses the next victim. I hope it is a female. Most women cannot resist something that shines and sparkles, lucky me. There has to be something else that entices them to peel the sticker. A tiny note tucked under the sticker generates curiosity. I learned early on that a lone sticker only attracts children. I do not kill children. They are full of life and haven’t made any mistakes yet. I guess even I am bound by some standard of morals. I wait in anguish, watching the stickers. I watch them until I feel like I am lurking too much. There are too many damn cameras these days. Why would anyone need a camera pointed at a tree?

The tree sticker is not my only possibility at the moment. I also have a cute witch sticker placed in the female dressing room at the local Clothes & Jewels. I like to guarantee my option sometimes. The sticker that I currently stalk is the female one. It has been two days and not one woman has acknowledged it. The third one, a ghost, is on the fountain at city hall. The waiting is agonizing. I know a heavy rainfall is predicted for the next few days. The rain cannot ruin the one in the dressing room, the most important.

I used to choose my victims from two places: the college campus and the local coffee shop. Once I was certain of my choice, I did research. I learned everything that I could about each woman. It was fun. Everyone needs a hobby. Now I have to learn the details of their lives when they are already dead. I do not have time to research them before our time together because the sticker game takes more time to choose.

A beautiful blonde woman exits the dressing room. The cute witch sticker is smiling up at me from the back of her jeans. It may have been an accident. Maybe she did not even read the note. Either way, I cannot ignore the sticker’s choice. My wait is over and hers has just begun. I follow her, keeping a reasonable distance.