It was over at the pinnacle of his delight. At the heighth of his merry way down the road. The end was there and the end was passed. The game played. The curtain down. He was no more satisfied by the wanderings of the creature before him, nor was he remorseful of his deed. The past was behind him and the voice was silent. The night had cocooned his mind with the foggy disownedge that is madness. His hand twitched, and he put it to his side.
The knife in his other hand stopped its carving. He gazed at the body, wide eyed and no longer screaming. It was dead. His toy was broken.
He had best go out and find another.