His Town

Sleep eluded him this night. Toss and turn. He heard each chime of the old fashioned clock downstairs. Finally, he had had enough. 
 He got out of bed and dressed. He might as well get back to work. 
 The police had yet to make any connections to him. He was smart. He never hunted in his own backyard, meaning he never hunted in his own town. He went into the big cities. Children, no matter how well protected, were still easy targets sometimes. Enough to fulfill his need and desire. He only needed maybe six a year.
 To the outside world, he was nothing but a construction working. 
 But here, in his own little world, he was something more. He loved children, and not in the appropriate ways.
 However, when he lay his victims to rest, he made sure they were paid thanks for.
 He lived in the wilderness. Hundreds of acres.
 In a large clearing he made them their new homes.
 Brick by brick he laid with much practice and precision. The remains of the little children placed within.
 They did not look like graves in the least. 
 They looked like a small model of a town. Houses. So many houses. Each holding a tender little soul.
 He smiled. His little community was growing quite nicely.