no name2

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
i decided to write a story inspired by the work of Edgar Poe.
Please comment.

Submitted: March 06, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 06, 2012



The needle tore steady.Running its coarse,producing Motzart's "Requiem Aternam" and all of its perpetual glory.I reach for a cup of fine cut crystal.I attempt to pour myself a drink but my hands disagree and bring the sorce to my lips.Why be civil now?Why would it matter if i drink from hand or stream?Poisen is poisen wether its from vine or grain.Wether its from bottle or glass.I swallow sharply and uncontrolably,my tounge rests on the roof of my mouth.Once a triumphant taste,is now a crippled reflection of sour regrets. Two more follow and my hands stop shakeing.I settle into the velvet trimmed, leather chair by the fire place.I run my fingers around the studs in the arm rest in a serpentine motion.The soloist begins,and with her voice my mind drifts and eyes become unfocused as i stared at the dim fire.I attempted to understand my previous blunder,but stump myself for ryme or reason.

A knock at the door..

The sickness dives into my stomach.My panick saturated mind searches franticaly for a solution.Another rapping at the door brings me to my feet.I look myself over for sighns of foul play.I twist the cold brass door knob on the big mahogany door to find a man retreating down the steps.

"Yes?" i answered in a shakey,uncertain voice.

"I didnt mean to bother.i was passing by in search of a place to lay my head." said the man.

"No worries" i replied."Where are you coming from?" i asked.

"Our boat sets sail in the morning but i drank myself out of money." he said.

"I could put you up for the night." I replied.

Unaware of what i just said,i stepped aside allowing the man in.I asked the man of his origin and specialities.

He replied "Im a sailor sir,I was born on a ship and have been on one as long as i can remember."

I spoke to this man of my experience of sailing and of my own falling out for quite some time.The conversation made me feel human again.The record stops and i suddenly felt very ill.Reality hit and i become dizzy,just then relizing i let him in.How could i be so ignorant?

"take a seat" I tell him. "I'll grab you a blanket and a pillow.would you like a drink?"

"That would be great" he replied.

With that i went to find a linen closet.I didnt take me eye off of him the entire time i was searching.He set his bag down by the door and settled dow, cross legged in front of the fire.I returned with a dusty, wool blanket and a bottle of "Penalton" whiskey.He went strait for the bottle.Drinking half of it in one drink,he corked it and went to hand it back.

"Keep it" i replied."Dry your bones and rest well."

With that i went up stairs.Paceing back and forth,i thought of what i would do.What if he gets curious?Four hours pass and the clock reads 2:45 AM.I walk down the stairs ever so gentley to check on my guest.He had passed out by the now ,extinguished fire.I walked down and discovered he was drunk.I propped him up and set him in the velvet trimmed, leather chair.I covered him with the dusty,wool blanket and proceeded upstairs...


"What do we have?" 

"Two homocides" replied the deputy."We have the murderer in custody"

"What do we know about him?"

"We found him drunk and passed out in the chair." replied the deputy."He claims he had no involvment but there is nobody else in the house and his finger prints were all over the broken whiskey bottle used to mutilate the faces of the victims.We are not able to identify the victims but we found this note."

The deputy hands the note over to his cheif.It reads:


"I appollogize for the pain i have brought.You nor I will ever understand why i did this.

But relize this,its all over now..."

© Copyright 2020 hoodlum. All rights reserved.

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