"Klop, klop, klop klop"
Along with the sound of paper rustling in the wind and the chilly whistling sound of breeze on a Friday night, the sound of Anne's shoes as she made through the alley pierced through the veil that night and silence had cast all around. Anne felt uneasy about the atmosphere as she made through the alleyway leaving behind her the sound of stiletto heels while her mind roamed about. She reached into her bag to take out her phone and on the screen was the news about the latest murder by slitting of wrists and bludgeoning to death. A serial killer was on the rampage and no one knew anything about it except the mode of operation. This was his sixth victim in as many months. Anne tried wondered how such darkness could be conjured by a human while she gazed into the starless night.

Her deep blue ocean eyes darted from side to side and somehow she felt in her mind that something was wrong. She could almost taste it and she tried to think of something else to dissuade the feelings of impending doom but all she could hear in her head were the words "Blanco y Azul".

Thirty minutes ago she was annoyed and screaming at the top of her lungs after the words "Blanco y Azul" were uttered by the most displeasing man she ever met. Zachary or Jim or whatever name he went by had been popping up everywhere for the past four days trying to declare his love for her in his heavy Spanish accent which would have been sexy if not that he reeked of cigarettes and his hair was always grey and patchy. She also noticed he wore the same brownish oversized jacket which hung loosely on his lanky frame.
She'd always politely turned him down and was getting tired of it until she lost her cool that evening and made sure to lambast him enough so he could never come back.

"Blanco y Azul", she thought. The words were definitely Spanish and she knew Azul meant blue but she wondered what the sentence meant and unlocked her phone to Google. Suddenly she heard footsteps behind her and before she could move a muscle, her attacker hit her on the head and in a second she was sprawled on the ground.

Through closing eyes and the hair covering her face she could see the silhouette of a man holding a pocket knife. He bent to unbutton the sleeves of her white and blue dress.

She could smell him and then she realized. Damn cigarettes.

He looked in her face, smiled and whispered: "Muerte, mi amor", in that Spanish accent she now dreaded.