Loss of Innocence

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
The title says it all. This is something I wrote for English class. Oddly enough, I wasn't suspended.

Submitted: June 02, 2013

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 02, 2013




11:01 AM

The first thing that became quite clear to Brently Mallard was that his wife had on her face an expression of triumph and arrogance. Only to have it quickly replaced by the placid expression on observes when another has the energy ebb from their very being. The second thing that became clear to Brently was the expressions of intense shock and awe his friend Richardson and his sister-in-law Josephine had adopted in the astoundingly miniscule amount of time that had passed since he had opened the door to his home.

His wife collapsed onto the floor, like a crumpled and recently emptied balloon, pulled down to the Earth, bereft of essence. Brently dropped his umbrella and grip-sack and held his wife’s limp body in his arms, a not-so-familiar feeling of inescapable sorrow, and the realization that tears were welling up in his usually cold, uncompromising eyes.

“Louise, damn you, wake up.” Brently muttered quietly. Richardson and Josephine crowded around the married couple.

“Louise. LOUISE!!” Brently repeated and shouted, every word being shaken by sobs he had neither the will nor the desire to resist.

“Call an ambulance, damn you!!” Brently screamed, his sobs becoming more evident with each passing second, with each tick of the clock, until he began wailing openly. Richardson ran outside screaming for help. Josephine began to weep as well.

A small raspy inhale broke the adopted custom of silence and tears husband and in-law had practiced. Both quieted in greater awe than before.

“Free…” Louise whispered, barely audible, before inhaling on one finally occasion, and she was no more.

The silence was renewed. Widower and in-law looked upon the deceased. The last thing Brently noticed before Josephine brought a rolling pin onto the base of his skull was the Louise’s countenance remained as beautiful and doll-like as the day he had met her. Even in death.


11:27 AM

Richardson ran back into the open front door of the Mallard home, and the first thing he noticed was that Brently and Josephine were gone, but Louise’s body remained. He closed the door behind him. He was able to find a doctor, but he was unavailable until the end of the hour. He collapsed to his knees. Louise’s face was as if it was carved of porcelain. There was a vacant look in his eyes as he looked upon her. He reached his hand out to touch her, but hesitated. This was everything he ever wanted. She was all that he ever wanted. He gave in to his desires and collapsed every inhibition he had raised over the years. His lips met hers. With each kiss, the next was fiercer, more passionate. He was feeling himself stiffen. A certain part of his mind was repulsed at what he had now decided, but another simply responded: “Sod it.”

He lifted the carcass with great care, as if her shell was as delicate as the soul which had recently departed. His muscles bulged (and so did his trousers) as he carried the cadaver up the stairs and into the vacant bedroom. He laid the body on the bed, and began to disrobe. When he was fully without clothing, he began to undress the body. With some amount of considerable difficulty. In a moment of vague humor, he mused on how long it takes for mortuary workers to get dead bodies in and out of clothes. Trainees must take lessons on the seemingly trivial task. Do they practice?

This tangent of thought lasted about 2 seconds, as Richardson began to have limited success in getting Louise’s knickers off. When the alive and the dead were both in the buff, Richardson looked upon her. He slowly climbed upon the bed and positioned himself on top of her. His lips met hers once more. When he was finally ready, he pushed his stiffened member into her and began to thrust. A moan of awe and pleasure escaped his lips. He had never experienced pleasure of this caliber, not even on his own. Although he was certainly a handsome man, he had never been intimate with a woman. Before now, that is.

He began to thrust faster, as if a primal force had taken hold of his reason and done away with it. Guttural grunts soon took the place of moans. He thrusted and grunted one last time as he climaxed, spilling his seed into a woman who would now never bear children. He then positioned himself so that he laid at her side, his hands stroking her smooth, creamlike skin in adulation.


11:17 AM

When Brently came to, he actually noticed two things, seemingly simultaneously. One, he was completely naked, and two, his wrists and ankles were tied to poles fastened to all four ends of a cold, unrelentingly rough, familiar, slab of stone. His heart raced and his innards shifted as he recognized the rack on the wall to his left, made just barely visible by the flickering lanterns. The rack laden with riding crops.

“Often, Brently, I wonder, how on Earth did you set all this up so inconspicuously?” and invisible, irrevocably familiar voice said from the shadows. Brently’s heart raced even faster when he mistook the voice for Louise’s. But no, rather it was Josephine who stepped from the shadows, also completely bereft of clothing, with the exception of a pair of black leather gloves covering her hands. Brently’s eyes widened and his manhood began to stiffen at the sight of Josephine. Josephine tsked.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Josephine said in a rather condescending manner. She casually strutted over to the rack of riding crops, and took two particularly thick ones in her hands and held them both up so Brently could see from his limited point of view.

“Which do you think I should use first?” She asked nonchalantly enough to sicken Brently even further.

“I…I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Brently stuttered quietly. In a sudden flash of motion, Josephine brought the riding crop in her right hand down on Brently’s bare, vulnerable belly. He groaned in agony.

“Don’t you lie to me, you miserable bastard!!! Louise told me about every sick thing you’ve done to her in here! And now that she’s gone, there’s nobody to stop me from giving just what you deserve.” With every word and pronunciation, flecks of spit struck Brently’s face, already dried from his tears. Josephine climbed on top of Brently’s restrained being.

“So…shall we begin?” Josephine asked after regaining her composure. She went to the rack and removed a black handkerchief which she started to wad into a ball.

“Josephine, I beg you, please, I never meant to—umph!” Brently frantically said before his plea was interrupted by a handkerchief being stuffed into his mouth. She then repositioned herself so that her womanhood complimented his manhood. Brently groaned not only of pleasure, but of guilt. Josephine brought the riding crop down on his chest. Brently screamed as loud as he could, when the terror of the situation struck him fully. Josephine let out a shrill laugh, sickening Brently’s heart and soul. He closed his eyes, and his mind went to a better place than where he was now. Of course, that’s not saying much.

11:32 AM

Richardson sat on the side of the bed, his head bowed as if he was a priest in the hold of quiet prayer, sobs shaking his now fully clothed body.

“What we did…what I just did…if they all found out, they’d commit me to some godforsaken asylum. My friends, family, they’d all leave me behind. If they found out what I am. And now…you’re dead. But we were together, finally, after so many years…but you’re dead.” Richardson quietly muttered, seemingly to no one. Each word was stricken with sobs, in the danger of cracking any second.

“You’re dead…” Richardson repeated. His eyes wandered to the mirror on the other side of the room. As if possessed by some otherworldly force, he calmly stood up from the bed, walked to the mirror, and shattered it with his right fist. The pain from the broken and dislocated fingers were paid little to no mind. He picked up one of the larger, sharper-looking shards. He walked back to the bed, and placed a final, gentle kiss upon the cold, invariably luscious lips, now lacking the rose and life Richardson new so dearly.

“Goodbye, my love.” Richardson monotonously. He walked to the adjacent washroom, and plunged the shard of glass into his neck. Streams of crimson splattered onto the room, painting a grotesque portrait onto the walls as pale as death.


11:47 AM

Brently Mallard was falling. Falling into the abyss without hope that lies in the heart of every man who threw themselves off the precipice. Josephine was at the rack, her fatigue apparent, but nonetheless, still absorbed in the process of choosing yet another tool of vengeance. Brently knew he was falling. Then he caught himself.

In a sudden burst of strength, fueled by rage, he screamed as loud as the handkerchief would allow and tore the ropes binding his right hand, then freed his left. Josephine was alerted, and quickly struck him with a riding crop, in a vain attempt to pacify him. But pain meant nothing to him. With one hand he gripped the wrist that pained him so terribly, and with the other her throat. She gurgled, struggling to transport precious oxygen to her brain. She weakened, his grip tightened. With a roar, he threw her against the wall. After quickly liberating his mouth and other appendages, he jumped up from the stone, the beast within him awakened and renewed with every blow he dealt to his sister-in-law’s oxygen deprived body. He retrieved the largest riding crop from the rack and began strike every inch of flesh he could see. After she stopped moving, he kept striking and striking, the wounds becoming bloody, and flecks upon flecks of scarlet began to strike Brently’s body in response. When he finally tired, he collapsed onto the floor, and began to weep. Not at what he had done, but for the realization at what he was. At what all of humanity was.

In the midst of this locomotive of thought, there was a knock on the door.

“Hullo? This is the Doctor, I’m here to see about a dead woman?” Brently heard from the front door. He ran up the stairs from the basement to the main floor, all exhaustion apparently forgotten. The first thing he noticed was that Louise was gone. He opened the door to reveal a tall, skinny, young-looking man with a pretty, young, redheaded girl at his side.

“Hullo, I’m the Doctor you called for, this is Nurse—good God, man!” the Doctor said. Brently apparently forgot he was without clothing.

“First, clothes. Then show me the girl.” the Doctor said quickly. Brently nodded without a word, and ran up to the wardroom, dressed himself, and returned to the area where the Doctor and his nurse were waiting patiently.

“So, where’s the girl?” the Doctor asked, nonchalantly enough. Brently realized that as he dwelled on the events of the last 20 minutes, he had no idea where his wife’s body had gone.

“I…don’t know.” Brently said, in shock.

“You don’t know where the dead body of your wife is? Normally, dead bodies don’t just get up and walk about on their own. Nurse, please search the upstairs.” The Doctor said, reasonably frustrated. The pretty ginger nodded and went up the stairs. Some time later, a piercing shriek filled the house. Brently led the charge upstairs, fearing the worst, but not quite sure what the worst could be at this point. When they arrived at the bedroom, they found Louise, completely naked, and blood leaking out of the doorway of the adjacent washroom. The pretty nurse was weeping, and when she pointed to the interior of the washroom, the body of Richardson lay on the floor, his clothing and the walls soaked with blood, and a particularly large shard of glass from the broken mirror protruding from his neck. Brently looked on with horror. The Doctor did the same, then looked at Brently with disgust.

“You sick, twisted bastard.” the Doctor said, his tone heavy with repulse. Brently looked at the Doctor quizzically.


“Don’t play the fool. I know exactly what happened here. Your friend Richardson ran out to get me, so you seized the chance to violate your wife’s corpse. He caught you in the act, so you killed him, and made it look like a suicide. You sicken me.” the Doctor replied with intense hatred.

“No, I don’t know what—”

“Nurse, please get the police. We have a murder to report.” the Doctor interrupted.

“Doctor, you must believe me when I say, I haven’t the faintest idea what happened here!” Brently said frantically as the nurse left the room.

“I’m sure you don’t. And I’m sure that explains the blood on your body, and the lack of clothes in which we found you.” the Doctor responded. Brently dropped to his knees. The Doctor reached into his bag. The last thing Brently Mallard saw before the Doctor applied the sedative were the dead bodies that were his best friend, and the lifeless, astoundingly beautiful shell that was formerly his wife.

The Doctor

12:01 PM

The police wheeled out the bodies of Louise, Richardson, and Josephine. Brently still hadn’t come to yet. The Doctor took a deep breath as the bodies were wheeled away on the scene, and allowed his eyes to rest on the voluptuous figure of Nurse Pond.

“All this happened, and the girl died of a heart disease.” the Doctor said with a chuckle. Pond caught him staring, and smirked at him.

“You know, Doctor, once the police are gone, this house will be empty. And the police said they found restraints and such in the basement. If you feel like having a bit of fun.” Pond said rather mischievously. The Doctor smiled.

“I normally don’t mix business with pleasure, Nurse Pond. But, exceptions have to be made, I suppose.”

© Copyright 2018 Alex Montgomery. All rights reserved.

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