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A String of Hope or Death by Rope?

Novel By: BounceAround
Mystery and crime

We ask for a string of hope, but are sometimes lead to death by rope. In this town, people get one or the other. In the wake of day, when the sun is out there are some children which don't appreciate. That's when she comes around, to make them pay. Pay for what she doesn't have.

Let sorrow heal her lonely soul. View table of contents...



Submitted:Apr 16, 2011    Reads: 58    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   

It hung in the center of the room. The light from the cracks in the wall caused a slight casting of a simple shadow along the darkly stained wood. Other than that, the room was black. Black and silent. It was displayed to scare the victim. Portraying a violent scene to an intruders eyes. The single four legged stool stood all in its lonesome, waiting to be used. One step closer to it, and a rippling feeling of pain and sorrow launched through a person. Nearing a noose set for experiment was like walking into a room with a gun pointed at you. Thoughts of death were poured out of you as the tears slid down your face. Death, murder, suicide. It was all the same, just from a different perspective.

First came the man. His eyes wary and his body still. He was searching for his baby, his first born, his proud son of nineteen years. Frozen straight to the bone, he stood. He didn't reply to his hollering wife, only stood watching with mouth agape. She came trotting inside in search for her son and husband, only to find a death and a hollow.

Sixty inches above the stained wooden floor were two flaccid feet, swaying from a drop. Skin pale from the cool of dusk, eyes wide red like fire. Post-mortem hung in the air, killing any sort of mood. But only for the mother and father.

Beyond the cracked shady wall stood a young mysteriously deranged woman. With crooked teeth which sparked a smile. Her view of sorrows fed her uneasy happiness. Her rollercoaster of needs and feelings were at a high. Yet it took so little to make everything go tumbling down.

She watched, ate at the suffering, absorbing and converting, making it all suit her comfort. And then, she crept away.

They stood, surrounded by gloom and shadow. Sobs tore through the stillness of the cloudy day. Mourning and remorse was felt in the hearts of everyone in black. A funeral for a young child was always worse to experience than a funeral for the elderly. But it had to be done.

Friends and family, teachers and classmates, all together to grieve over the boy. While the parents were struck with a permanent image of their baby hanged, the woman was out committing a new crime, or at least preparing for it.

A new scene. The cold hollow of a high ceiling brightness. Stainless steel on all levels. Pristine white tile on the walls and floor. High above it all, she let it hang, in preparation for human contact. Beyond it was a loving family room, with a long three seated couch and a loveseat. On the heavenly soft loveseat lay a girl. Unconscious and dreaming, for a drug had fallen in her system. She had no idea what hit her, or what was to become. Only that at that hour, she was not meant to be home.

The woman continued to ready everything for the final production of a death above all. To whom that shall see it, they will guess why a young girl decided upon killing herself; they would never know there was reason for this unlawful death.

Let sorrow heal her lonely soul.

The woman busied herself, for the finishing touches, and then she kicked it away. The drop was quick. The crack was deadly. Like a whip to a horse, before galloping away with a prize pocketed in store for a future.

She had done it again, a beautifully skilled murder. And then she stepped away into the shadows. Only to wait for a mother and a father to see the love lost on a rainy cold day.


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