Note:
All the murders will be from the victims pov, but then everything else will be in third person.

Victim's POV

3rd June 2010, 8am

I stepped out the house, wary as usual. Even though it had been two months since I had received the note, I was still on guard. I was still watching, waiting in the terror that gripped me. I knew he would come. No one believed me, but I knew he would come. It wasn't just some prank note. He was a teenage killer, dismissed as a wild teenage fantasy, until their kids showed up, a hollow husk.

Drained of blood, drained of life.

I walked down the streets I had walked down a million times before. There was an unfamiliar air of the coldness, unusual for the time of summer. The hairs stood up on my neck, and I knew, I just knew, he was coming for me. I forced myself to keep going on, but in my heart I knew today was the day, today was the day I was going to die.

I turned onto a new street and saw two people. Then one person turned off the street and I saw the only other person cross the street and walk up to me. I forced myself to keep walking. I was the fastest in my school, but if he was my killer, there would be no way of delaying my fate. None. So I would be brave to the end.

"Hello." He said. His voice was mundane, the kind to forget. This was probably just a facade, a fake face. If he was the killer. He might not be, after all.

"Hi." I said back.

"I like teenagers you know. Always being told they'll always be believed by parents and adults, then at the first test of the trust, they are let down. Broken. Everyone thought you were lying, didn't they? Everyone thought it was just a prank didn't they?"

I was paralysed. I couldn't do anything but accept my fate. I tried to move. I couldn't. I tried to talk. Say something. I couldn't.

He laughed maniacally. "Teenagers. So naive."

He laughed again and vomited black. At least, at first I thought it was black. Then I realised it was made of tiny animals. Spiders. Scuttling spiders. The click-clack of their feet echoed a million times.

All I could hear was his laugh and the click-clack of the ever growing tide of spiders.

The mans form was changing. Four black legs portruded out of his side. The hairs thick and dark.

His smart clothes almost shrunk into him as the black hair erupted from the rest of his already deformed body. He laughed, and fell down to all fours. Or rather, all eights. He was a massive spider. A tarantula. A hairy, scary tarantula.

He chittered and spiders crawled all over me, their feet digging into me and my clothes. I opened my mouth to scream, but more spiders came, and crawled into my mouth. I panicked. It was all I could do.

I was covered in tiny crawling spiders whose feet dug into my skin. I was panicking and the other spider, the large tarantula, brought his head nearer to mine and I could see the fangs, larger than life. I felt two sharp punches of pain, and the spider latched onto me. I felt my blood being drained, and I realised. He was drinking my blood.

I fell unconscious after thirty seconds, the horror overcoming me. My conciousness abandoned my body for lost hope.