Leslie would never have gone into the city if he hadn't been in need of equipment.
But his sickle was no more. And every slasher needed their signature weapon. Not that he couldn't operate without it.
It was just that the sickle was apart of who he was now.
He was fortunate to reside in a part of the country where farming was as popular as music. He found the farmers market almost immediately; and since it was well past 10:00pm, he hadn't had to worry about many customers.
"Sir, I'm sorry but we're about to close." The young clerk standing at the cash register, said to Leslie as he silently walked past the last customer of the night.
An elderly woman who turned her nose up in disgust the moment Leslie entered.
She was now on the list.
Everyone else was.
He walked down the isle nearest the door and register and continued his search when it became apparent, that what he sought was somewhere else in the store.
"Sir, hello? Goddamit, sir!" The clerk, called after Leslie once more.
When he got no response, he came from around the counter and peaked down each isle, until spotting Leslie standing still.
Staring at something.
The clerk stood at the entrance to the isle, watching as Leslie removed a shiny, new, sickle. Staring at it like a long missed lover.
The dude was obviously a nutjob.
One that was pissing the clerk off! "It's too late to purchase anything. We close at ten thirty. It's eleven thirty sir." The clerk spoke with annoyance.
This bumpkin was being a real dick. "Sir, I'm calling the police." Said the clerk.
But his phone wasn't on him.
The clerk had left his cell in his locker, which was in the back room.
Leslie stood four feet away from that room.
And there was no way the clerk wanted to walk pass him.
The guy obviously had issues.
So the clerk, who's name tag read Sam; walked back to the desk and register and picked up the phone that sat on top.
He dialed 911, and tapped his feet as the phone rang.
"Hello, this is Glen Echo Shierff department." The despatcher spoke through the reviever.
Her voice husky, yet feminine. "Hey, this is Sam over at Neo-Farmers. I got a guy here, refusing to leave." Sam said to the woman on the other end. He explained that they had closed moments ago, yet the man in overalls simply ignored him.
And that he was playing with the Sickles in the back.
He explained that the man seemed off. And that though he wasn't sure, the man was wearing face paint.
"We will send someone out as soon as possible. You may want to leave. I think that man is a suspect for multiple homicides, based on your description." The husky voice said.
Sam dropped the phone and hurried from behind the desk. Now nervous, his feet nearly tripped over the other with each step.
He placed his hand on the door and snatched it open. Practically running out of the building.
He got into his gold Honda, shoved the key in the ignition, slammed on the gas as he he placed the car in reverse, and drove as fast as he could away from the store.
Looking back just in time to see Leslie standing in the middle of the street, gripping the sickle.
He sighed in relief and began to calm. Suddenly he saw in his rearview mirror a set of eyes, he then turned and saw a deranged looking boy sitting in his backseat!
The boy said, "Man you look tired. Must have ran like hell to your car." His lips were curled into a wicked and sinister smile.
Jeff had tracked Leslie to the hardware store, and planned on killing everyone inside.
But for now he would be content with Sam. And knowing he had now taken Leslie's pray. Sam slammed on his breaks and reached for the door, but Jeff was too fast and too strong.
With the power of Hell coursing through him, he easily snagged Sam by his shirts collar, and pulled him to his seat.
Then with one move of his free hand, Jeff shoved a knife through Sam's seat from behind.
Sam's eyes now wide in pain and shock. "Ssssh, its okay, now. Just GO TO SLEEP!" Said Jeff, with an errily soothing tone.
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