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Old Series I may want to Revive
Pulled this oldie from my files and decided to let you fine, decent folk critique it. I was told by some this was something good, but I'm still not sure.
It's the first part of a chaptered storyline which would detail the last hours of a disturbed teenager. There was supposed to be at least 8 chapters, but I just wrote this one.
Maybe after I see what you folks think of this disturbingly-structured story, I'll decide to write more.
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01: Little Becky
Chris could hear himself whisper an apology to the girl lying at his feet.
A last shred of continence slipping past his thin chapped lips.
"Why did I do this…Why do I do this?"
Chris never planned to ask himself why more than once.
“Plans don't always go the way you want them to.”
Something his dead bitch-of-a-mother used to tell him.
Becky was always his favorite little friend...
They were cut from the same mold despite their age gap.
Chris hated being fifteen.
Becky was seven years old. Lucky Seven.
He frequently thought about her every morning while heading to school.
The way she smiled.
The way she would kiss his cheek every Saturday morning.
How life would be if she were older…
She probably wouldn’t be so dead now..
“Why did she have to be such a fucking victim!?!”
"…"
No reason to ponder such needless questions now.
Chris became amused at the thought of building a crucifix for her.
A little one, with flowers and gumdrops.
He could hang the crucifix on the roof and wait for a storm to brew.
Like Frankenstein's Monster, would lightning make her live again?
He smiled a little bit.
“I could steal all the flowers from Mr. Kennan’s yard next door.”
“I could put them at her feet. Becky loved flowers.”
He could also kneel and say his Hail Marys ‘till the cows come home.
Poor little Becky isn't coming back…
Chris hung his head in sadness for a split second.
People in the neighborhood liked to call her a little angel.
He always hated how much attention Becky would get from the neighbors.
Chris once had an impulse to toss her from his window.
You know, to see if she could fly.
I mean, everyone said that she’s an angel.
They’re supposed to fly, right?
Chris tried his best to shovel the little angel under his bed.
It would prove to be a very tight fit.
The body of his mother was taking up too much space.
He began remembering things.
Little Becky was afraid of the dark when she was alive.
He found out about her fear when they last played Hide and Seek.
When he found her in his closet, she was shivering in fear.
At first, Chris was scared that she had found the body of Mr. Kennan’s cat in there.
Chris really hates to feel scared.
He almost pulled her arm out of its socket dragging her out of the closet.
He went and grabbed her throat and asked her if she saw anything.
Becky just cried and said she was afraid of the dark, so he let her go.
After all that happened, he patted her head and gave her ice cream.
She forgave him for his sins.
That all happened last week.
“Becky was such a good sport.”
Chris figured though she wouldn't have a problem living under the bed.
She’s dead now. The dead aren’t afraid of the dark.
Right?
Being under the bed isn’t so bad.
She’s get used to it.
It's where he would want to be if someone stabbed him in the throat.
The blood was still fresh on her body.
Chris always enjoyed the texture of blood.
Human blood. Dog blood. Cat blood.
He always had a habit of spreading it over his face and lips after a fresh kill.
Kind of like what a tribal chief would do with an enemy’s blood.
Sometimes he liked the taste of it too.
Before hiding her body for good, Chris bent down to look at her eyes.
They were like the pupils of a little marionette.
Marionettes don’t bleed though.
He slowly moved his tongue gently over her left eyelid.
Some of her blood had splattered onto it.
The taste was like an old penny.
Chris found that very strange.
He couldn't help but to suddenly laugh a little bit after he finished hiding her body.
“What’s so funny?”
What was so funny?
His mother always wanted a daughter.
She never wanted Chris, just a daughter.
He reached under the bed and placed his mother’s arm around deal little Becky.
The cracking sound of her decayed arm startled Chris.
“Poor little Becky will have to do, Mommy.”
It was almost time to go to school.
Chris quickly cleaned himself up,
grabbed an unfinished page of math homework,
and left his room and the memory of little angel Becky.
He never really liked to be tardy so he was quick to get to school.
“Going to have to really enjoy myself today…”
It dawned to Chris that his current life would change very soon.
The family under his bed will eventually be found after all.
Chris would have to prepare for that.
He checked his book bag for the gun he used to kill his Mother Dearest.
It was pretty gun. Nice and shiny.
Light and very easy to hold.
Chris was very lucky to have the Internet.
It doesn’t ask too many of the right questions.
Chris is going to have to be ready when the shit hits the fan.
The ride that’s coming beats any game out there.
Chris was afraid, but he was ready.
Ready for anything.
He’s been ready since he was born.
“It’s always good to be ready, right?”
A car was pulling up beside him. Chris didn’t recognize the driver.
He did recognize him when he stepped out of the car and grabbed him.
It’s Frank Somethingorother. A child molester who just moved to the neighborhood.
Chris remembered his face from the flyers that were being passed in school last week.
Chris feigned weakness and decided to be abducted by this so-called ‘Monster’.
He figured it might be fun.
“What do I have to lose?”
End of Part 01
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By your leave,
Vember Judgement
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