The Once White Ceiling

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just a random short when I was walking through my new house that I JUST BOUGHT!!! Anyway, I was walking through it, one of the rooms had red walls and a white ceiling, and it gave me INSPIRATION! Enjoy.
Rated PG13 for gore and slight language.

Submitted: July 03, 2010

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Submitted: July 03, 2010

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As the man staggered towards me, I knew my end was near. I did not lock the doors, nor did I shut the windows. His wild red hair was tangled and dangling in front of his black eyes. In one hand, he held an empty bottle of beer. In the other, a large butcher knife. Standing beside the queen bed I was, I slowly reached under the pillow. His drunk, cloudy eyes were wild with murderous excitement. I wrapped my fingers around the pistol that lay silently under the pillow, quiet as possible. The man inched closer, laughing maniacally. He aimed the knife towards me chest, laughing still. I slowly pulled my hand out from under the pillow, and with all my courage, I screamed, \"DIE, BASTARD!\" and pulled the trigger of the gun. His body fell and crashed to the wood floor. The gun was smoking blood poured out of his body. I gasped and dropped the gun, listening to the clattering it made against the floor. I knelt down next to the man and bowed my head, praying for him. Then, I took the knife from his cold dead fingers, and lashed through his clothes, revealing his pale skin. I stabbed his back with great force, watching the incisions grow in size with every motion. By the time I was done, it looked as if his back had gone through a meat grinder. I placed my hands on his chin and held his head up. With my free hand, I slit his thick throat. His head tumbled off his shoulders and I watched more blood come out of his neck. Flipping the body over so it lied on it's torn back, I made a deep and large incision in the stomach. Seeing all his stopped beating organs made me want to vomit, but I had more work to do. I lifted his head by the hair and stuffed it into his stomach. Again, wanting to vomit. I grasped the ankles and began dragging it down the stairs. Out the back door I went, to the woods, snatching an ax. Propping the body on a tree stump, I made clear graceful strokes, chopping the body into sections. I pushed them all of the stump and buried them in the cold, December snow. Leaving the ax, I began trekking through the snow, leaving a bloody red trail. When I returned to my room, I looked at the walls. The once white walls were stained with red waves and other decorations. I looked at the ceiling. Tiny red flowers dotted it everywhere. Those flowers made a beautiful addition to my room.


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