Bef
23-05-2005, 04:08 PM
Aaah i was going through my documents looking for a poem a wrote a couple of weeks ago but instead i found a story i wrote about a year ago when i was still in school. We had to write about something or someone that isn't what they seem. Here it is...
Victim?
Such peculiar patterns the rain made on the wet window. It had been hammering down for nearly an hour now! Masie found it quite comforting. She sat on the couch watching some stupid talk show about people who had been victimized by con artists. She shook her head slightly, sighed, and stirred round the dregs left in her mug, she went into the kitchen to empty what remained of her Earl Grey. Upon her return, she remembered that she had left the window in her room open where earlier that night she had been sitting by that very window the rain had felt cool and fresh on her cheeks. Masie cursed herself for leaving it ajar, and wiped down the side of her bed which had been drenched with the rain. "Oh well. It will be dry in a while." She commented to no one in particular. She was alone in the house. Or was she?
There was somebody in the house though. A man sprung from the bedroom closet, he looked around and his eyes settled on masie. The man really didn't look dangerous. His dreary white shirt and stone black jeans did not appear frightening. His bedraggled brown hair and skinniness did not startle Masie. Even his hazel eyes, empty, did not alarm her.
It was the butcher knife he gripped in his right hand that chilled her blood. "Little girls like yourself shouldn't be home alone. They might get hurt or killed or--" He sprang at her with the deadly blade, forcing her to the ground. She screamed from both fear and pure surprise. He held the blade to her throat with one hand and
began to unbutton her cream blouse with the other.
Masie struggled violently, yelling, "Get off of me, you sicko!" He only grinned and continued. She clawed his right arm with her pointy nails, breaking the skin. He shrieked and dropped his weapon. Masie quickly snatched it in her right hand while her attacker was momentarily incapacitated. She then sliced him across the hand, shoving him off her and onto the soft, pale blue carpet as he howled in pain. The thought of calling the police never crossed her mind as she ran to fetch her axe.
One of the larger rooms in the house contained weapons of every type: crossbows, guns, swords, morning stars, and battle-axes. She hastily plucked the oak handle that supported the razor-sharp curved blade from its holding place on the wall. She put the knife aside on a nearby shelf. Her attacker had risen from his spot on the bloodstained carpet and grasped his injured hand in his left.
Masie laughed wildly, raising the axe above the man's vulnerable head. Bringing it down in a motion of brutal, devious grace, she heard his final shriek. Scarlet droplets stained her clean half-unbuttoned blouse. Death was not enough, though. The girl slowly hacked her attacker's corpse to crimson pieces. The blood flowed so beautifully; the red colour seemed so perfect and pure. It saddened Masie to perform the foreseeable gathering of the remains in a bin liner. Slightly before one in the morning, she buried the black bag deep within her garden. It required little effort, as the rain had given the earth a soft, moist excellence.
After returning the shovel to its proper place, she retreated to her inner chamber with dirty, blood-spattered hands. The faded cyan carpet in her home carried bits of red here and there. Some came from tonight's visitor, but others originated from several of Masie's other victims. The spotless walls were decorated with pictures of dead bodies, destroyed cities, and a large axe. She carefully washed the knife as well as her hands. "Another piece for my collection." Masie smirked, placing the knife in an empty display case beside the axe. She hadn't had to do anything; he had come to her! Eyeing the blade, she wished she'd gotten something more personal from him like a ring or a watch. Normally, keepsakes came in this form. Still, the knife would do nicely. Little girl indeed!
Hmm i got a very good grade for this but my teacher thought id maybe been watching to many horror films!
Victim?
Such peculiar patterns the rain made on the wet window. It had been hammering down for nearly an hour now! Masie found it quite comforting. She sat on the couch watching some stupid talk show about people who had been victimized by con artists. She shook her head slightly, sighed, and stirred round the dregs left in her mug, she went into the kitchen to empty what remained of her Earl Grey. Upon her return, she remembered that she had left the window in her room open where earlier that night she had been sitting by that very window the rain had felt cool and fresh on her cheeks. Masie cursed herself for leaving it ajar, and wiped down the side of her bed which had been drenched with the rain. "Oh well. It will be dry in a while." She commented to no one in particular. She was alone in the house. Or was she?
There was somebody in the house though. A man sprung from the bedroom closet, he looked around and his eyes settled on masie. The man really didn't look dangerous. His dreary white shirt and stone black jeans did not appear frightening. His bedraggled brown hair and skinniness did not startle Masie. Even his hazel eyes, empty, did not alarm her.
It was the butcher knife he gripped in his right hand that chilled her blood. "Little girls like yourself shouldn't be home alone. They might get hurt or killed or--" He sprang at her with the deadly blade, forcing her to the ground. She screamed from both fear and pure surprise. He held the blade to her throat with one hand and
began to unbutton her cream blouse with the other.
Masie struggled violently, yelling, "Get off of me, you sicko!" He only grinned and continued. She clawed his right arm with her pointy nails, breaking the skin. He shrieked and dropped his weapon. Masie quickly snatched it in her right hand while her attacker was momentarily incapacitated. She then sliced him across the hand, shoving him off her and onto the soft, pale blue carpet as he howled in pain. The thought of calling the police never crossed her mind as she ran to fetch her axe.
One of the larger rooms in the house contained weapons of every type: crossbows, guns, swords, morning stars, and battle-axes. She hastily plucked the oak handle that supported the razor-sharp curved blade from its holding place on the wall. She put the knife aside on a nearby shelf. Her attacker had risen from his spot on the bloodstained carpet and grasped his injured hand in his left.
Masie laughed wildly, raising the axe above the man's vulnerable head. Bringing it down in a motion of brutal, devious grace, she heard his final shriek. Scarlet droplets stained her clean half-unbuttoned blouse. Death was not enough, though. The girl slowly hacked her attacker's corpse to crimson pieces. The blood flowed so beautifully; the red colour seemed so perfect and pure. It saddened Masie to perform the foreseeable gathering of the remains in a bin liner. Slightly before one in the morning, she buried the black bag deep within her garden. It required little effort, as the rain had given the earth a soft, moist excellence.
After returning the shovel to its proper place, she retreated to her inner chamber with dirty, blood-spattered hands. The faded cyan carpet in her home carried bits of red here and there. Some came from tonight's visitor, but others originated from several of Masie's other victims. The spotless walls were decorated with pictures of dead bodies, destroyed cities, and a large axe. She carefully washed the knife as well as her hands. "Another piece for my collection." Masie smirked, placing the knife in an empty display case beside the axe. She hadn't had to do anything; he had come to her! Eyeing the blade, she wished she'd gotten something more personal from him like a ring or a watch. Normally, keepsakes came in this form. Still, the knife would do nicely. Little girl indeed!
Hmm i got a very good grade for this but my teacher thought id maybe been watching to many horror films!