[ WP ] Starting line for your story : `` He was n't a cannibal . Not exactly ... ''

He wasn ’ t a cannibal. Not exactly, his larder would be stocked for a much more prosaic reason. It was an unspoken need that drove him, drove him to hunker down in the gardens of his neighbours. Hidden by night as he gazed through cheerfully lit window on domestic bliss inside. Giggling children tickled in front of roaring fire, doting mothers smiling on as fathers played with golden haired progeny. That joy and laughter denied to him by those same grinning families. Only he was isolated, alone and withdrawn from their scornful gaze, pushed out and hidden from light of day by their gasps and whispered disgust. 
 
 
 
 A victim of circumstance created by inattention and shirked responsibility rather than malice. Turned figure of horror by unchecked flame run amok as stunned onlookers had watched. Once like they a laughing mill worker, carving hot days of steel into a living. Now crippled by rushed quotas and others mistakes. Cast out by disfigurement a unwanted reminder of the potential price of lax response. 
 
 
 
 Why should they have what he wanted? Why should he be turned into a figure of horror while they got the smiling kiss of love? No, if they wanted a monster he would show them what a monster could be. Crouched there in the dirt he watched as red cheeked cherub was kissed and tucked into bed. Tucked deep in fluffy blankets warm against the chill of the night outside. Soon he would begin, he would crawl through unsecured latch, crawl into once safe sanctuary, and steal away innocence. Tonight it would begin, tonight he would stock his larder.
