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Writer
Join Date: Feb 2006
Location: Mckees Rocks PA
Gender: Female
Posts: 25
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Bones
I'm looking for any final critiques on this story before i send it out to be published. Any harsh comments are welcomed. Thanks
Writer45
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"I can’t believe someone would do this," Detective Moore said, walking away from a skull and a pair of hands.
"Moore, look what I found," Natasha called over to him. "Seems whoever did this wasn’t taking any chances on being caught."
Moore’s flashlight blazed in her direction. He rushed over to see what she found.
"I don’t know. The door looks pretty rusted. Could be anything behind that door, this was an old warehouse," he said, walking over towards her. He opened the door, entering the little room. He shined the flashlight around. It was a room, about 10 X 13 in diameter, and was bare all the way from the ceiling to the walls. As his flashlight beam hit the floor of the room, he discovered more human skeletons. He shined his flashlight around once more. Over by a skull, was some kind of object. Moore walked over, picking up the object. He heard Natasha enter the room. He turned back to her, the bloodied screwdriver in his hand. "More bones in here, and I found this." He held the object up for her to see. Moore looked over at Natasha, shining the light on her face. Her face looked pale white. "The bones look older though. But the blood on here is fresh."
"God help us," she said, walking away from the metal door. Natasha shut her eyes. She hated screwdrivers, and this one brought back memories of her father killing her mother with one. That's what got her into law enforcement. So another family didn't have to go through what she had gone through. After a few more minutes, she pushed the memory of that summer night away, and continued to look around, finding a work bench. "I see our friend likes tools." More screwdrivers. She shined the flash light around; searching the whole bench. It seemed that was all the killer liked to own was screwdrivers. Just like her father use to.
"Probably how he or she killed this many people to begin with." Moore began walking over the bones once more, allowing the metal door to creak closed.
"I’m going to go give a report to the Chief, telling him what we found. Be back in a couple." He made it to the entrance, and without another word was gone.
***
The creature hung in the rafters, dark shadows covering it. It watched them closely, especially the blonde. The creature felt she was special. It smiled. It had to figure out a way to get rid of the man, so as to have an easier time getting to her. It watched the man leave, quietly walking up along the rafters, to the window above the front door. Its bones creaked as it moved along the rafters; dust settling to the floor. Sneaking out, It slowly made its way down the front of the warehouse, making sure the man still couldn't see it. The creatrue didn't want to blow its cover. As the man's back was turned, the creature let itself quietly down to the ground, soundlessly moving about. It moved up behind the man, bringing its skeleton hands in front of it. It knew the man didn't see him, didn't suspect he was being followed. At least, the creature hoped he didn't suspect. As it came up closer, it figured right.
The man thought he was alone.
The creature smiled, jumped on the man's back.
The man turned around, throwing the creature off. He wasn’t sure whether to yell, scream, or both.
The creature shook off the shock, jumped back on the man. It knew there was no time to waste. The creature thrust its bare hands deep into the man's chest pulling his heart from where it once beat, killing him instantly.
The man’s face was controted grotesquely, as his body fell to the ground with a loud thump!
The creature didn’t notice the body fall, as it smiled; watching the blood dip off its boney hand, and onto the ground. After a few mintues, the creatue, threw the man’s heart to the ground. It thought about just leaving the man there, but felt that it would be more interesting to go back in, the man in front of it. It smiled; wanting her to die slowly...painfully. Instead, it looked around the cruiser, hoping to find something to use. It searched for about five minutes, finally finding a knife.
Perfect! it thought, grabbing the screwdriver out of the cruiser. It grabbed the man; making the corpse walk. They entered the warehouse again, allowing the door to slam shut behind them.
***
Natasha watched him leave, sighed and began to go through the tools. They looked too new; they still had their bar codes on them. Natasha was willing to bet that they were bought at a local hardware store, and she knew that she could have them traced. Natasha opened the rusty door. As the door creaked, sharp pins of fear prickled her skin. She began to walk in, when she heard a loud banging sound coming from the front of the warehouse. Spinning around, Natasha brought her flashlight in front of her.
Moore stood there in the glare of her flashlight.
Natasha focused the light on his face, then to the rest of his body. "Moore, you idiot! You scared the living…" She stopped, realizing immediately something was wrong. She raised the glimmer of light back to his face once more. "Moore, what’s wrong?" She noticed the blood oozing down his lip.
"Moore, talk to me." Then she heard a laugh that made her skin quiver.
Moore fell to the ground, and there stood what looked like a man. The skin was rotted away, blood dripping off its right hand, and it had only one eye left in the eye socket.
The other half of it was nothing but bones.
Its left hand was hidden behind its back, a screwdriver clenched tight in its fists.
Natasha could see the screwdriver through its left rib cage.
The flashlight dropped from her nerveless fingers. As the it hit the floor, a loud bang sounded throughout the warehouse, bringing her back to reality. Courage finally found its way back into her soul, and she pulled out her gun, firing all the rounds she had in the gun. As the last of the bullets released from their prison, the smoke from the barrel began to clear.
It didn’t even falter.
She let her gun fall to the ground, and began searching around for some other kind of weapon; her gaze finally falling upon the workbench. Her stomach churned with the thought that she would have to touch a screwdriver, but on look behind her told her she had no other choice.
It began to thread its way through the maze of bones, heading straight for her. It could sense her fear as the distance between them closed; its bones tingled with power and excitement.
She sprinted over to the tools, keeping an eye on the creature. She felt around the bench, finally grabbing a screwdriver. Bile rose up in her throat, but she swallowed it back down; knowing she had to survive. She watched it stop where it was, staring at her. She took that moment to gauge the distance between the bench and the front door to the warehouse. She didn't have that far to go, but then she let her gaze fall to the floor. It was littered with bones, skulls. It was going to be hard to get passed all that. She thought it out a moment. All she had to do was buy enough time to get from the bench to the front door, escape and call for back up. Her mind raced a moment, and she decided that the best thing was to just get the hell out of there…forget calling back up. She would send a squad car down in the morning, after she had briefed the Chief on the situation. Seemed like a doable plan, if she could figure out how to get past this thing. She held the screwdriver close to her, moving slowly away from the bench.
The thing made a sound that should have resembled a manical laugh, but came out more like air.
"Natasha."
She froze. The sound seemed to come from all around her.
She could only assume that it was the creature thing's.
"Go away," she cried, bringing the screwdriver up in front of her. She looked down in her hand, and quickly dropped the screwdriver. Ever since her father killed her mother with one she had found it difficult to even pick up a screw driver. It made a clanking noise as it hit the floor, and she was distracted a moment. The creature-things voice brought her quickly back to reality.
"Natasha, do you really want to kill?"
The thing came closer, stopping barely two inches away from her. It had no smell, no breath. Its single eye held her gaze. The air around it seemed chilled, like Anartica."Come to the other side with me, Natasha."
She started to move to the left, towards the front door. Her gaze came down to the screwdriver yet again. There was nothing else to use. It was all right to defend herself with, wasn’t it?
She fought with her inner self. Finally, she rushed back over, picking up the screwdriver once more. As she stood up, she realized that the creature-thing was following her to the door.
"Get back!" Her voice trembled with fear. "I’ll use it. I swear I will."
The thing laughed. "Now, now, Natasha. What did mother tell you about playing with daddy’s tools?"
Natasha couldn’t believe her ears. Those words were spoken by her mother just before Natasha’s father had gone crazy, stabbing her to death with the screwdriver. He would have killed her as well, if she hadn’t ran out of the shed. She swallowed the lump in her throat, and tried to push the past to the back of her mind.
"No! You can’t be real." Natasha stumbled on a bone.She caught herself, and edged backwards towards the front door. "You’re just a figment of my imagination."
"Am I really? Do you really believe all that psycho babble they told you in the psycho ward?" Its expression never changed. Its face didn’t really exist. "Do you really believe that your daddy just slipped and accidentally jammed a screwdriver into Mommy’s eye socket? Huh? Surely, you don’t believe that?"
Natasha looked down at the screwdriver in her hand a minute. It felt strange to her, almost as if it was calling out to her. She could remember the summer night so well. Her and her mom had just gotten back from the market. Her dad was in his shed as usual, doing only God knew what. Her mom had gone out to tell him they were home. She heard screaming, and ran to the shed. As she opened the door, she saw her dad holding her mm by the small of her back; the screwdriver plunged deep into her chest. When her dad finally realized she had been standing there, he allowed her mom to fall to the floor, attempting to cover up what he had done. Natasha remembered backing away from him; running to the neighbor’s house. After that, it was all a blur. Her dad had been given the death penalty; she had been given to foster care.
It was gaining on her.
She looked back towards the front of the warehouse.
Only a few more feet left to go, she thought, looking behind her to see where it was. It was gone. Stopping dead in her tracks, she scanned the area behind her, trying to catch her breath at the same time.
The warehouse was completely empty.
As the knots in her stomach began to loosen, she turned back towards the front, running. As she reached the final few inches to the door, Natasha felt even more relieved.
It leaped off the rafter, and, in front of her only way out, smiling its toothless grin.
Her heart pounding, making a run for the door. She ran, her legs pumping as hard as they could. Natasha didn’t care about anything else, she just wanted out of there. Approaching the door, Natasha felt hands-cold fleshless-hands grip her shoulders. It forced her around, and she swore the creature wore her father’s face. She screamed, just as she had the night her mother was killed-memories of that night came flooding back once more; screaming even still as the thing plunged the screwdriver deep into her heart…screamed as she felt herself die. As the world became black, Natasha heard the thing’s voice echoing in her mind…
***
As Natasha woke up, lights blared in her eyes; causing her to sheild them with her hand. The hospital room was pale white, with a TV and a dresser, and doors leading off to either side. Cheif Wilkins sat in the only chair.
"Chief," she said, her voice low.
He got up, and walked over to her. He sat on the edge of the bed.
"How are you feeling?"
She looked down at herself. She was all bandaged, and her head hurt like hell. She had no memory of what happened after the knife went into her chest. She also had to question what happened to her head.
"Other than my head and chest hurting, I'm fine." She closed her eyes, as the memory played in her mind. "How did you guys find me?"
Wilkins looked down at his hands. "A fisherman boating out on the river found you floating face down. He pulled you out of the water, and gave you CPR. You were in deep shock." He looked back at her, making eye contact. "If he hadn't pulled you out of the water..."
Natasha was like a daughter to him, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing her.
"What about Moore?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.
"He was found dead in the warehouse."
"Did you see the bones littered all over the warehouse?"
Wilkins looked confused. "What bones?"
"There were bones littered all over that warehouse." She sat up straighter in the bed. It hurt, but she wanted to be able to talk to him with a clearer mind. "Don't tell me there were no bones in that warehouse. I swear there were. There was also a man, or a creature more like it, that showed up out of nowhere. He had practically no skin, and only one eye in its eye socket. It was the killer."
"There was nothing in the warehouse."
She thought a moment. "What about a rusty door? Did you see one there?"
"Yeah, but we couldn't get in it. It seemed to be locked. Why?"
"Because there were more bones in there as well." She looked to the window, though she couldn't see anything out of it. It allowed her to tear her eyes away from him."What about a workbench? Did you find that? Were there tools on it?"
Chief Wilkins got up off the bed. "We did find a work bench, and all the tools, mostly screwdrivers, were rusty." He walked over to the door, and stopped. He turned back to face her. "Though we did find a bloody screwdriver on the floor by Moore's body."
"Moore found it behind that rusty door."
"Well, don't worry about it. We'll find the person who did this. For now just get some rest. I'll be by later."
Natasha watched him leave. Something didn't add up. After a couple seconds passed, she realized she had to go to the bathroom. Slowly she got up off the bed, and walked to the door on the left. Flipping on the light, she walked to the toilet, sitting down. As she sat there, last night's events kept playing in her head. Something definitely didn't add up quite right. There WERE bones in that warehouse. So where could they have gone? None of it seemed to make sense. Maybe she’s never know what happened at that warehouse, after she blacked out, nor what happened to those bones. Sighing, she got up, and flushed the toilet. She gave herself a moment before walking towards the sink. As she washed her hands, she looked in the mirror and screamed. The image staring back at her was nothing but bones.
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