The Creeper: A Life Story

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 4 (v.1) - Happy Birthday Antonio Blackwell

Submitted: May 31, 2010

Reads: 89

Comments: 1

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Submitted: May 31, 2010



“Rebecca I have something important to tell you,” Antonio began slowly, “I…”

Rebecca’s heart was pining for him to continue. She loved the way he spoke, so naturally slow and smooth. But before he could muster up the strength to finish; his mother burst into the room raving mad.

“You moronic little jackass,” she bellowed.  

He spun around as his phone was ripped from his hands and hurled out the window. Antonio did not see a phone fly out of the window; he saw his chance to be with Rebecca. His anger mounted and he turned to his mother enraged.

“You heartless bitch!” he hollered back.

Her eyes drew up in surprise then narrowed in extreme fury. She lunged towards him, grabbing him by the throat and shook him violently. There were no words between the two, only disgusting looks of disdain. His mouth contorted into a countenance of absolute abhorrence and hers was one of pure malice. In her twisted mind she was forming a plan to silence him forever and hold her secrets.

Still holding on to his neck, Karen slammed his head against the wall, leaving him slightly dazed. She repeated this action until she could smell the blood seeping from his head. Karen tucked Antonio’s small body under her arm and rushed downstairs to see her husband.

“Albert start the car, this boy needs to see a doctor,” she declared.


The hospital room in which I awoke was blindingly bright, disturbingly so. I wasn’t near any beds, as one would expect, but lying on the floor. The scent of dead skin on the linoleum floor around me made me sick. Was I even alive? I struggled to lift my head in a paradoxically sense seeing as I had lost so much blood. The light I perceived from the white walls began to subside and I started walking towards a door. I pushed it open and sounds flooded my head. Crash carts rushing passed me, the beeps and whirs of the machines, the last screams of a dying patient; all these sounds hit me with the force of a twelve ton stone. My legs seemed to walk with their own purpose that was unknown to me, and I was left following the idea of a path.

This odd vertigo feeling was slowly fading and my surroundings became clear. My legs were for some reason taking me towards my mother, but I realized I wasn’t moving them anymore; I was being dragged along. A burly Neanderthal of a man scooped me up and took me into an entirely new room. This room was a beautifully hideous contrast to the previous one. It was dark, only lit by a dangling light that flickered incessantly. The man threw man on to what I concluded to be a bed, though it was like a slate of gravel on my back. Then came the restraints; they tied each of my limbs down with brown leather bands and my neck with something similar. It was loose enough for me to breath but I still could not break free. The woman the proclaimed herself my mother appeared in the room.

“Silly little Antonio,” her words were callous yet wickedly playful. “It’s so cute how you thought that bitch could help you escape.”

I wanted to scream at my mother for her unnecessarily evil words but I found myself sedated and unable to speak. A second later I wanted to cry out in pain, but I still could not. I felt an uninvited piece of cold dirty metal intrude my skin. It was a needle and they had begun to stitch my mouth closed. It tore my skin and caused even more bleeding but my "mother" continued to smile. But after the stitches were completed the real pain came, the means by which to silence me for good.

“Happy Birthday Antonio.”

© Copyright 2017 Atton Brown. All rights reserved.


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