The boy hunched over the bloody corpse of his mother, staring with curiosity at the kitchen knife embedded in her right side. Right below the ribcage. He lightly gripped the knife’s wooden handle, tugging on it. A spray of dark colored blood spurted up and splattered his cheek and dribbled down his chin as he jerked the knife out. “More blood? I thought it was all gone.” He said, his voice tight and high pitched with excitement. This was fun, who wouldn’t like stabbing their mother until she bled out? until she was white and pure as the snow that covered the ground outside. Until she realized why he had done what he did. The boy had told her seconds before she breathed her last. She had been unfaithful to dad. She had been having affair with the man down the street. Now though, she was pure. Pure and white like the beautiful white rose that the boy had placed beside her on a glass plate. Now, she was once again innocent and clean, and if- if she could claw her way back from Hell then she could stay faithful to Daddy. That was how it was supposed to work, wasn’t it? he lightly traced a finger along her arm which was riddled with cuts and slices. He stared hard at her wide open blue eyes. He realized then and there that she wasn’t coming back. Ever. “I guess Daddy has one less family member.” The thought somehow struck him as funny and he started laughing. He tossed the knife aside and watched it skitter across the tiled floor. “What a mess!” he couldn’t stop the laughter now. It just kept coming and coming, until his belly ached. He reached for his mother’s shoulder and pulled her up into a sitting position. Blood dripped and dribbled from her back and her sticky bloody hair and joined the large crimson pool beneath her. “You shouldn’t have done that! it wasn’t my fault, you- you made me do it.” His laughter stopped and he started crying for some reason he couldn’t explain. That black empty void in his chest and soul had once again fled. Leaving him with despair and pain. It left him there with the things he had done to some other person, to some other being. It left with the consequences. Why did it leave so soon? why did it leave at all? he never really understood what it really was. Only something that made him see things that normally he wouldn’t have seen, or hear something he hadn’t before. He guessed it was some super power or something special like that. It had always made him feel alive and filled with joy. “Its not fair!” he shouted out. He tightly clung to his mother’s dead body, burying his face into her bloody chest. “Don’t leave me…” He heard a click coming from the hallway. The front door was opening. “Dad?” he called out. His dad would understand why he killed mom, he just knew that he would be proud. He pushed his mother away from him and stood up. Wait, that wasn’t him. These footsteps were heavier and slower. “April?” That voice… it sounded familiar… “Flint? is your mother here?” Now he knew who it was. Miss Clinton, their next door neighbor. She freaked him out, the way she looked at him and the way she smiled at him when he asked her something. It was totally creepy. “Flint- there you are.” She stepped into the kitchen and froze. “Oh my God! what happened here?” her eyes wondered over his mother’s body and then the bloody kitchen knife. “Flint!” she rushed over and dropped beside him, staring at the body in shock and terror. “Flint!” she gripped his shoulders, her fingernails digging in hard enough to pierce his flesh. “Hey! what the fuck happened here?” Flint? who was that? was that his name? he had forgotten. He stared hard at her face, trying to hold back his tears. Miss Clinton gently touched his forehead. It took willpower not to flinch from her touch. “She… she wasn’t supposed to die…” he said quietly. Miss Clinton reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “Its fine, sweetie,” she quickly dialed 911. “Do you know who did it? who killed her?” Flint lowered his eyes, shaking his head. “Honey, do you know who did this?” Flint’s head snapped up, everything human had vanished from his face. “I did.” The voice came from Flint’s mouth but it wasn’t his own. It was far too deep and slithering. He smiled gently- almost sadly- and plunged a second knife that he had hidden behind him, into her chest. She felt the sharp stinging pain of the blade and tried to open her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Except blood. A lot of it. Her knees grew weak and she felt herself falling forward as the boy moved back. She fell face first into the pool of blood beside April, the sharp sting faded into a dull ache that spread through her entire body and settled in her chest. She felt herself get pushed over and found herself staring into the boy’s eyes. They were both bleeding and oozing something black. “It was me.” He said in his innocent voice. The last thing Miss Clinton saw or felt was the knife raised high in the air and fall like a pickaxe into her head… I started writing this story a long time ago, just haven’t had many ideas and such but I’m starting to get more and more ideas. So those who like horror and gruesome and gory stuff plz give me ideas. I could always use more. Thx |
As I read this I was able to visualize every scene. Very dark but a good read!
Thx! It really means a lot to have other people comment and post their thoughts. And I would love to hear how you think it should continue. I’m always wanting to improve and that starts with y’all. Other people’s opinions are what help me the most