It was in the late 1960s, one of those cold december nights. Viktor was walking his way back home from a late night bachelor's party. He was in his thirties, still unmarried. The damp road made his footsteps echo as he kept walking in the unusually eerie and chilly night. He was thinking about his future life. He had an unstable income, yet enough to pay his house bills and take care of his bed-ridden father. He was planning on marrying after he got a more high value job and that waitress at the Signor Paradise Hotel made a nice match for him.
He had started hearing someone else's footsteps behind him now. Footsteps, almost like shoes being dragged. His heart beats started thumping almost sensing danger. Mustering up some courage he put aside the thought thinking those dragging sounds to be of some homeles man. As the dragging continually followed, just to be cautious and reassure himself, Viktor stopped and glanced back, to witness a picture that would haunt his mind forever.
There was a man standind just some metres behind him, probably in his sixties, wearing a what looked like a old and torn out tuxedo. His right hand, Viktor was dumbstruck, held a unusually huge lumber axe. Within the seconds that followed the man's right hand went above his head and slashed his head, which the left hand relflexly catched upon.
The eyes of the severed head instantly sprang open and his lips gave a ghastly unwelcome smile. The lips instantaneously, in a double tone voice shrieked, "Viiiiiiktoooor, Your head's mine. AHAHAAHAHA."
Without second thoughts Viktor's leg muscles sprang into action in a speed that he had never imagined he could run.
Suddenly he woke up. His wife was looking at him horrified, "Oh my....Viktor are you okay?" She asked. Recovering from the nightmare that he had been having for 25 years now, as he looked at his wife's face, her eyes sprang and became wide, her lips smiled ghastly and words escaped that gave him a heartattack, "I'm not done with you Viktor."