There's a local legend where I come from.

They're simply referred to as the Willowmen.

There's hardly need for the new law enforcement in this town.

The Willowmen, they take care of all of it.

Every single step taken, every word spoken, every drop of blood spilled. The willow men know about it before

anyone else. Believe me, anyone that has invoked the wrath of the willow men has gone missing

without a trace. And that's why when I realized what I had done, it was too late.

The willow men were coming.

She just wouldn't shut the hell up.

No matter what I said and what I would do, she just acted hysterical.

She kept pacing around the house screaming.

She said she found this and that and knew I was cheating on her. She asked me who it was. And I told her she was crazy. I guess I wore that excuse out. After a while, I couldn't take her damn voice anymore. I'd walk room to room and she'd follow me and when we got to the kitchen, I had my fill. I reached for the first knife I could find and jammed it into her throat.

The face of anger and sorrow melted into one of despair and disbelief. The crimson fluid ran freely all over her blouse, and she dropped to her knees, scrambling around on the floor.

She clawed at the tile and made gurgling noises, which only served to infuriate me.

I grabbed an iron skillet that had been preheating on the stove and took a swing at her head.

I went crack followed the impact, and while I didn't need to keep going, I did.

I did.

I lost count of the number of times I hit her, but I had a good deal of blood on me.

What was left of her head was held together by thin particles of bone, and blood continued

to rush out.

I dropped the skeleton to the floor with a loud clang!

I wish remorse could have followed, so I would have felt at least a bit human.

...