Case for defence

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A little story about a brother remembering his night of murder while watching his twin get the blame for his actions.

Submitted: December 07, 2011

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Submitted: December 07, 2011

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I tried to contain the laughter that was about to shoot out of me at any moment like a bullet escaping the metal prison of a gun, as I stood at the back of the courtroom. I through back to the night I committed the crime that hopeful my twin brother would be blamed for.

I remember everything as if it was a dream; all images blurred together, seeming longer than it actually was, playing out a dizzy role of my crime. Nothing seemed real; the adrenaline rush had taken care of that, and as I watched the night’s events back they flickered through like an old movie; in black and white, with a silence that cuts you to the bone while shivering the flesh concealing your spine.

What made me do this crime? No average day loser knows a mind of criminal like mine. They’ll think I did it by accident when trying to find precious belongings that would give me a surge of money that would help me in my desperate state. The truth is I didn’t care a less about the money; I am like a wild animal, a predictor searching for my prey. A weak victim that I can make a meal of. This gives me a tingle of excitement like no other; a tingle that makes me grin whenever I remember it.

I still remember the cold breeze whispering around my body and in my ears in the twisted voice of the devil. I remember the roar charging from the gap in the window and the wood from the handle of my hammer splintering my hand that was in a tight fist ready for action. I tiptoed through the corridor and up the stairs hearing the slightest creek as they begged for mercy under the thunderous muscles wrapped neatly under my skin and on my thighs. When I entered the dreamer’s room where the peaceful rhythm of her snoring brought the taste of hatred to my tongue; I purposely knocked over a valuable parceling ornament of a lady; a figure from the past. The dreamer awakened startled by my unexpected presence.

Finally my moment came and I took it with pride. As I harshly grabbed the mouth of my victim so no scream may explode from her wrinkled lips. Her face was a picture of horror as she saw the last smile of her life; a smile so utterly happy that it terrified her. My hand; as steady as ever lifted the hammer; my weapon of destruction. Then it hit her sending an electric shock to my dead heart, a new sensation opening my horizon to new discoveries. Another hit and her eyes stayed still as she left the cage of her body and went into the unknown world. Leaving me in a crimson pool of blood.

I dropped the corpse and began to sprint leaving a trail of scarlet footprints. When I left the now haunted house, I washed my shoes in the bristles of the grass, then hearing an unwanted guest from the window of a neighbor, dropped my hammer in a bush. I then ran onto the road feeling drunk with excitement I stopped under the spotlight of the street lamp, watching as the neighbor rang the police. Then I started to run.

I carried on remembering this as my brother lay still on the concrete bed of the road. In the mere distance a buss stopped with a thick red liquid on its wheels. I began to cry with overwhelming joy, now my twin will definitely take the blame. 


© Copyright 2017 Kate Lackenby. All rights reserved.