Baby tales

Blood softly glided down the wall of the nursery and dripped into a forming puddle under the baby’s crib. No cries were heard in the room; in fact it was almost silent, just the scratching of a branch rustling against the window as it blew back and forth in the cold night breeze. The cold clung to the room too, as if deaths icy hand had touched the entire room and left a chill to linger over all that remained. 
The body lie sprawled out across the centre of the room, the head so caved in from the bloodstained hammer that lie beside it that it almost looked like no head at all, just a pile of red attached to a body. A figure slinked silently into the room, the darkness concealing almost everything about it, except for the fact that it held a saw in its hand. It knelt down beside the body and placing the saw over the body’s shoulder, began to work the saw, slowly severing the limb. The only sound that could be heard was the heavy breathing of the worker and the scraping sound of saw cutting slowly through bone over and over again. 
When the figure was finished, it stood up, holding onto the freshly severed arm that still dripped blood down onto the now soaked carpet. The arm was tipped upright to stop the dripping and then it was carried out of the room. This occurrence happened over and over until only the remains of the head and the torso were left. The figure having returned once more, stared down at the body in the darkness knowing there was no quiet or subtle way to remove it from the room. It was two big and the figure was too small. Giving up, the figure tossed the saw down onto the body in anger. The figure ran out of the room, but soon returned having cleaned all the blood off of it and gotten clean clothes on. It tiptoed softly across the room, and stepping over what was left of the body, the figure climbed up into the crib, then began crying for its mother to come and find the body.