"The Night Gesturer stalked from house to house, hoping to find someone to threaten. Every year he would sharpen his blade and polish his mask until the plastic cheekbones glistened in the motion-sensor lights of backyards across the city. He'd grow his fingernails extra long, all the better to scratch the sliding door glass - or mimic the ripping of guts and rending of flesh. But as he collapsed on the patio tiles, crimson leaking from his throat and pooling in the tracks of grout, all he could think of was whether his story would ever make a good true crime podcast. Was gesturing really enough in this day and age? Would it even merit a 3-part Netflix series? 'I should have probably gutted some of them,' he thought as his last breaths evaporated from the inside of his mask. "Gutted a few and gestured at the others.'"