Leej47

Hey, this is the first short story of mine that I am posting, because I feel that it has the best execution, however not necessarily the best premise. Not looking for a proofread (Don't talk about my grammar), just looking for comments in regards to style. Appreciate the time, and I apologize if the story is too dark for some.


Slowly, he opened the door, turning the handle ever so gently as he pushed upon its mass. He had traveled too far, for too long, for something so simple as an old creaky door to ruin his plan, or his pleasure. But, luckily, due to the tenderness and care he took in any of his actions, the door remained silent, allowing him to stand in the doorway, casting his formidable shadow upon his sleeping victim. How long had it been? How long had he searched to find her? How many people had died to protect her? How may people had he been forced to kill in order to get to this moment, the culmination of all his struggles…The apex of his existence.
Looking down at her, taking pleasure in the soft sound of her breath and the peaceful way that she slumbered, the man felt an invigorating tingle creep up his spine. Sara Matthews…the bitch, lying before him as ripe and sweet as the most perfect of berries. As he looked down on her a wild ecstasy spread through his body, as he realized that soon he would take what he had wanted for far too long. Slowly he took his first step towards the bed, the light from the doorway making him appear to be nothing more than a shadow, a mass of darkness. Oh, if only that had been the case.
As he moved, slowly and deliberately taking his time, the large man’s heart began to race with violent anticipation. His delight knew no bounds, and neither did his resolve, as there was not an ounce of fear to be found in the bulk of his body. He did not worry about the open door, or the light that shone through it, and did not dwell on the sounds that would soon fill the house. Exquisite sounds of pain, suffering, power and redemption. Sounds of death. Regrettably, Sara’s parents would not hear the horrific cadence to come, simply because loss of hearing, like many things, goes hand in hand with loss of life. The man truly wished he would have been able to keep them around, to let Sara witness their suffering as he tortured her, but after mulling it over in his mind on countless bus trips across the country, he came to the conclusion that it would make things just a little too complicated. So, after entering the yard, killing the dog, and silently breaking in via the back door in the kitchen, the monstrous man had made his way to Sara’s parents’ room first. There, with two soft snaps, his silenced pistol had made quick work of their heads.
Now, as he looked at Sara, he chuckled quietly to himself with the thought of the recent death of her parents.
What a bloody little mess that made.
But, a mess of brain matter on a bedroom wall and his new pair of jeans was insignificant when compared to Sara’s death. And now he had reached the second act, standing at the foot of her bed; a form of darkness, the only light from which shone from the blade that turned itself over slowly in his hand. It was time.
He stepped forward, putting his knees on the foot of Sara’s bed, slowly shifting his weight to the mattress. Suddenly he froze, straddling Sara’s legs, as she stirred and rolled over slowly. It was in this moment, as she reached for her comforter, that he instantly slid forward, grabbing Sara’s face with his left hand and raising the knife to her throat with his right. She awoke instantly, struggling to break free and attempting to find the identity of her attacker. But, resistance was futile, as the large man had both of her legs pinned under his mass, and there was no way she could break free of his grip.
Then, the man leaned forward, bringing his face into the starlight that peered though the window. Sara’s instant terror cut off any sound from escaping her throat, knotted up her tongue and caused a single tear to break free from her eye. It was him.
She looked upon his face, a broken and shattered form. His nose was caved in, and a deep scar made its way from the left side of his forehead, across his eye, and through his lip where it ended at a uneven and deformed jaw line. The skin itself was etched by fire, nearly unrecognizable as human. But his eyes were flawless and sharp; a piercing blue that looked upon her with a limitless hatred. As Sara looked into them she knew that this was to be her end.
“Hello Sara,” said the man in a cold voice as he held her down, slowly and gently touching the edge of the blade to her skin.
“You may have forgotten what you did to me, what you took; you may have thought I had forgotten about you, but I know that you remember my face, the face that you created. Well, I won’t lie… I am here to take from you what you took from me. I am here… I am here and I am going to take your life, slowly, as you took mine.”
Then as the man’s vengeful monologue came to a close, Sara moved suddenly, using all of her courage and strength to drive her knee into the man’s testicles, while closing her eyes in the anticipation of his pain. But, no sound of torture escaped his lips, and she realized that nothing had changed. Then she heard him and opened her eyes to see him looking down at her, chuckling to himself.
“Hehehe. Tst, tst. You stupid bitch, I ought to kill you right now on principle alone, however that will come in time. Yet, you still should know that, like my face, those little fellows were destroyed when you took everything away from me,” said the man with a cruel and devilish smile. “Though I must say that this is the first time that the lack of feeling has come in handy… So thanks for that at least.”
Then, with that comment, Sara found the strength to scream, as she felt the cold-hot sting of metal slowly slide into her abdomen.
“Oh, don’t scream my dear, it’s just a prick. The night has just begun!” the man said, smiling as he withdrew the full six inches of the blade from her side.
“The night…. The night has just begun.”

-Jonathan Lee

Truth-Teller

Are you Korean?

Chris Miller

Stylistically, you should use less adverbs, and descriptors in general.

A man breaks into a girl's home, kills her parents and begins to torture her. This is in revenge for something she did to him. Have I missed anything? People I neither know nor care about are treated curelly every day. What reason have you given me to care about this specific incident? These specific people?

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SecretSam

This needs to have an ending.

Leej47

Thanks for the feedback so far. I can see where you are coming from with the adverbs, reading it again after letting it sit makes me realize that it comes off as "over written." As for an ending... I never seem to be able to pull entire stories off while keeping them coherent. I suppose this would be a snapshot of a much larger piece, which I may finish.

Johnna

I'd like to see an ending here; maybe not the whole torture scene, but some kind of closure, unless you're going to make this piece longer.

I didn't really get what she did to him... Lit him on fire? I don't know. Maybe make that a bit clearer.

For a start, it's good. Creepy. Keep working on it.

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Truth-Teller

Did you know twenty three Koreans will be executed by Taliban fighters?

Raging_Hopeful

.... TT have you ever posted any of your own work on this forum? If not, I think you should shut it. You seem to love picking everyone else apart. Step up and be willing to submit to the same. Stop cowering behind one-liners.

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Truth-Teller

I'll be banned before I can: they're all secretly wishing for my death.

Because I tell the truth.

Arin

Though some stories are good as threadbare cliffhangers, you definitely need something else here to pump up the suspense or make us care more for one of the characters. I don't know who is the real villain here so I can't sympathize with anyone. Even if you want to leave the exact details of what happened out, you can still paint a very vague picture so we have something to go on. It's a solid beginning, you just need to flesh it out a bit.

...And Truth-Teller, hijacking other people's threads just to revel in pissing people off isn't a wonderful quality. But you don't seem to be in to win friends, so I guess it doesn't matter much.

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O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention,
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!

Leej47

I see what you are saying. I think the reason that I didn't take it further is because I don't know if this is the start of a story, where a daring escape would be made and a chase would ensue. Or, if it is the end of a story, briefly foretold before going into what happened to get us to this point. The latter is what I was leaning towards.

BTW: The girl either almost killed him, causing him to go into a coma long enough for his family to give up and move on, thus causing him to go insane and regard the act as his murder. Or, she somehow killed everyone in his immediate family, except for him, thus making him care about nothing but his revenge. ( That would be the idea at least)

SecretSam

awww come on WW! He was just trying to weave words into a tale. Those first three sentences were very telling of the situation that was going on. Don't you think?

Truth-Teller

Or just, "he opened the door."

Bravo for you honest candor, WordWeaver, bravo.

That's what I'm talking about!