Another night and the lady in red walks the streets.

Camilla always wears the dress for days like this.

A new victim is waiting for her knife to greet.

Always left at the crime scene is her signature, a bloody kiss.

Camilla walks into a dark alley to stalk.

She sees a man in a coat and nears herself to attack.

She takes out a knife and zooms in like a hawk.

The detective pulls out his gun and pulls the trigger back.

She falls into a heap and dies; thumping her body on the ground.

People gather at the commotion; hovering over the newly dead.

The detective said "She’s the murderer that’s kills anyone to be found."

"Her dress was white but the blood of her victims made it the color of red."

Analysis

This poem was written on a day that I was bored. I was here at my computer just daydreaming and this thought popped in my mind. “I usually hear about murders and they are done by men but never women.” Camilla came to me in my head. I imagined her to be in the era of Sherlock Holmes. I like the clothing of the era and also the mystique of it. Crime was rampant and technology wasn’t so advanced to figure out murders as quickly as they should be. So people would have to take the law to the streets. They solved cases by putting themselves in danger.

I always imagined Camilla as a loner. The type of person that you see sitting alone at lunch when you were in high school. The person that walks with his head down so as not to gain attention to his or her self. A figured she must have been beaten by her father or sexually assaulted by some man in her life. That is why she snapped and started to kill. She kills only men as it is found out later in another poem. She has had a sad life that ends as sad as it can get.

I figured that she must have killed a lot of people for the detective to put himself in danger. Enough blood spilled that he would hang out in alleys where she is known to strike. I liked the thought of her dress. If she had lost all sense in this world, than she would have lost any care of what she might look like to other people. So I figured that she must have had a nice, white dress but over the years it turned red. She is unkempt so she wouldn’t clean her cloths after a kill. Or maybe she wore it because she dirtied it and didn’t want to get anything else dirty. Or possible she wanted to be seen finally and maybe even captured.

I wrote a trilogy of this story in poem form. Look forward to it when I post them up. Hope you like them.