Utopia.

On nights like these, the rich people holed themselves up in expensive furs, taxi drivers turned up the heat, and the city heaved sighs of frost and smog.

The homeless people, wadded up in a corner, huddle together for a chance to remember what it felt like to be safe. They were the city's underlings, and they were loved as such. Not at all.

The bridges were especially icy on that night, and the two girls under it could hear the tires squealing and bumping, and sliding across the surface in their hurry to get somewhere. That's the only place anyone was ever going...

Somewhere

It started snowing, and the uncharacteristically beautiful girls blew on their hands to get the circulation going.

The man behind them smiled, and watched for awhile before taking a step towards them.

He had a twitch in his left eye...it fluttered periodically as he stared.

The silent snow falling muted any chance of the city folk hearing them. (At least that's what the onlookers told themselves, because rich petty excuses are better than the truth any day)

So the soundless night continued, and even the stars quieted their shining, in reverence for the deed committed.

In the morning, the frozen streets creaked and cried, the trees bent under the weight, and the roadside lights slowly flickered off in anticipation of light.

In the park beside the bridge, they girls were found. Children in that place were taught early on...don't eat yellow snow, and don't trust red snow. It just works that way around there.

The girls had been tied up by their long, stringy (maybe once lovely) blonde hair to a branch of a tree bent over the park bench beside their humble abode.

The soles of their feet had been cut from toe to heel; one of the most painful spots on the body, exposed to the expert knife of insanity.

Their bodies were left perfectly intact and completely naked...red stains tracing thick frosted lines down their bodies and ending in icicles of blood dripping from their fingertips.

No one identified them...no one could. Their faces were gone. The teeth jutted rudely out of a mass of flesh and bone, and the sockets where their eyes had been called for something to fill their void.

And then they were cut down. An end to something that shouldn't have been. The only thing left to serenade their death march was the whistling of the park caretaker as he shoveled away the telltale remains of one more society gone wrong.

Their bodies were discarded in cheap wooden boxes that splintered the corpses as they were slid in and dumped into a mass grave.

And the rich woman from the night before made headlines. It seemed the poor woman had lost her fur coat.