ShadowyNightmare's challenge-(i don't have a title)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is my first hand at trying to write a horror piece....**nervous laugh*

Anyway, ShadowyNightmare's challenge is this, You choose a number for words and you're given with a character trait.

Character trait: Becomes mired in grief when his/her favorite fictional character dies. (Which is bold here)

My words: Wick, shot, fey, mute, hate

Just continue reading and you'll know what it's about....
and there might be some errors somewhere...


Submitted: August 07, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 07, 2008



I woke up early in the morning, picked up my mail, and had a fairly ordinary morning. There was a piece for me that had no return address. I opened the letter and read:
Once on this Earth
Of soil and clay,
we shall all be cursed and fey.
After reading the nonsense, the paper was never to be seen again. If there was one thing I didn’t believe in, that would be spells and witchcraft. Because I make my own luck and nobody is ever going to take whatever future I have planned away from me.
That morning, during breakfast, I watched my favorite trilogy; Spiderman. I was on the third part. The reason it was my favorite is because Henry was in there. I still think he’s the best, even if he did turned evil. I got to the part when he teamed up with Peter to fight the bad guys but the worse part comes after that. Henry dies!
Tears filled my eyes. I couldn’t help it. Every time I see that part, I always cry. I hate it when Henry dies.
At that moment, my boyfriend, Kevin called, “Hey Suzie.”
My voice cracked, “Hey. What are you doing?”
Instead of answering my question, he asked me, “Are you crying again? No, let me guess, you watched Henry die again, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said, “are you coming over?”
“Actually I can’t. My road’s blocked with road work.”
“I’ll come to you then.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I’m coming and that’s what I’m going to do,” I said and joyfully hung up.
I got ready and into my car. Kevin’s house was a forty minute drive but I didn’t mind. If her could get to my house, then I could too.
Pass stop light and a whole lot of other cars, I drove for thirty minutes. I was listening to a song on the radio, planning on what to do when I get to Kevin’s.
On the road I saw no cars; none behind me, none up front. I hate being alone. The out of nowhere, there was this car and it was coming straight for me. At first, I was confused and I drove on. It wasn’t until the car collided with me that I knew that I’ve just experienced a fatal car accidentwith no witnesses.
Everything went, well, black

Who knows, I would be dead by now. But I woke up in a bed of dead leaves, moist and dirty.
My head ached and I stood with my vision turning. I walked forward anyways and made sure my hand was secured on something to hold.
I saw a house, a cottage maybe and I walked faster. I certainly had no idea where I was only that I just crashed with another car. But there was no pain when it happened, only a huge and painful hangover after that.
The door was before me and I slammed my fist against it. “Help! I’ve been in a car accident and I don’t know where I am. Can you please help me?!” I screamed, every word sending a lightning bolt to me head.
A man opened the door and made a gesture that I should go inside. My muscle was aching so I listened to my body.
Inside, there were a lot of paintings. Some expressed great values of pain and death. This man is incredibly insane. He had a very dark cloak; in fact, every part of him was dark except for his skin.It was a tan-ish white shade. But I couldn’t see his face.
“Did you paint this?” I asked, at least trying to start a conversation.
The man just looked at me. I supposed he was mute. He led me upstairs and into a room. Then he spoke. I guess I was wrong, “Rest here for the night. Tomorrow, I lead way back to city.” He smiled wickedly at me and left.
Give me one good reason why I wouldn’t be crept out by now. But I was a guest. Might as well be a good guest.
The room was poorly furnished and decorated. The lamps were outdated so, so long ago and the bed was slanted and old. There were lanterns on every corner.
I walked to the bedside and found an odd shaped knife. Clumsily, I dropped it and it rolled under the bed. I knelt down to pick it up. Instead of finding it, I found a piece of paper. It was old but I was able to read it.
“Wanted: killed a total of 60 women, men, and children. If captured -alive or dead- will be given a total of 1,000 gold sovereigns.”
I spoke to myself, “That is old British money.” I flipped the paper and saw a picture of a man. Wearing a dark cloak and his face was hidden.
Terrified, I had a hunch that this man looked terribly familiar. It looked like the man who took me to this room. I was living in the house of a serial killer!
I quickly searched for the knife and did was anybody would do; I panicked. There were no windows.
My shoes tapped the wooden floor as I walked around, crying. There was a hollow know as I walked. I didn’t notice it until I calmed down. The noise was coming from under a carpet. I wasn’t sure if it was good or bad thing that I found a trap door.
No matter, I stuffed the knife in my jacket, grabbed a lantern and went down. My shoes crushed something squishy and I dared not look down. I heard bones crack and scattering noised. I continued walking forward at least hoping to get away from my death.
I went through twists and turns and finally came upon another trap door. The wick of the fire made the room dance. It was set up exactly as the room I was put in. I was beginning to think that I came back to the same room. Maybe the trap door was a trick. My stomach grew sick and I was going to go crazy, until I saw a piece of paper on one side of the wall. Written on it were three lines: Once on this Earth
Of soil and clay . . .
I didn’t need to read anymore. This note was given to me and now I see it again. The realization hit me. The killer knew I was going to Kevin’s so he crashed into me, but how? What a great saw this turned out for me.
Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck rose. I turned quickly and there he was. He took hold of my neck. I couldn’t do anything, because he was freakishly strong. He punched my stomach and I was stunned. My mind would not respond, but I was still conscious. He threw me on the bed and slid his hand down my leg. I could only think of the worse.
I tried desperately to get the knife from my jacket. My hand moved and I was able to touch the handle. I pulled it out and stabbed the rapist in the back. Unfortunately. I was still weak and didn’t go deep enough.
He grunted and got off of me, took out the knife and harshly stabbed me in the gut. Pain rushed to my body and made everything white. My nerves went numb and dead. He repeated stabbing a few times and blood poured onto the ground. I wasn’t sure if it was good that I was still alive.
He moved quicker this time and I looked around for any weapon. He had dropped the knife beside me. I quickly grabbed it while he was working. I waited until I had enough strength and those moments were terrible.
My last piece of strength returned to me. I got up, blood still stained ob my stomach, and took a shot into the darkness of the hood. Red liquid squirted out and he fell on me. I felt my life slipping away but I had to see my killer before I die.
I lifted the hood and noticed I had gotten him in the neck. Every emotion of disgust, horror, and anger shock me as I saw Kevin lying on me. . . .

© Copyright 2017 LeAnne. All rights reserved.

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