Horror

Maniac

Like the couch potato I could be, I sat with wide eyes at the television screen. It was the morning time and I would be going to school in less than five minutes. I could faintly hear my mother’s voice in the background as she demanded for me to get up and wait at the bus stop, yet it was not because she talked in a low voice; it was just that the news seemed much more interesting than her demands.

The newscaster was a skinny woman wearing a tight bun and an expressionless face. Her tone was just as impassive as she continued to talk about the mysterious deaths of all the people, and how they were all similar to one another in odd ways. “This has been occurring for longer than a month,” she says. “Who the murderer is has not been determined, but police urge you to lock all your windows and...”

My mother grabbed the remote control and turned the Television off. There I sat in front of a dark screen, pondering over the situation and wishing that mother had let the news woman continue to speak. It wasn’t until I heard my mother scream, “The bus is here,” that I shook my head, rose up from my seat, and ran outside to the bus before it left me.

XXXX

School had been boring, but that was only usual. The only benefit I seemed to receive out of going there was that it gave me time to think about what I had seen this morning. I knew that watching the news wasn’t something normal for me, but even I knew that they talked about maniac stories often and that this could be no different than the other ones.

Putting that thought behind me, I petted my dog Jeffrey. He was a big, brown dog with lively eyes and a short tail. Whenever I felt lonely or friendless there was always Jeffrey I could turn to. I could turn to Jeffrey even when I didn’t feel lonely or friendless. Truly he was my best friend and it didn’t matter much that he spoke no English or human language at all. Sometimes, words could be really abusive.

I knew mother was home early even before I walked into the house. She had not told me or even gave me a clue, but oddly enough I could sense her presence. The same went for anyone in my house, but not others I did not know.

I carefully slid my key into the door and let myself in. Nevertheless, mother was there just like I had predicted and she was already prepared to fuss and make her existence known.

“Don’t let that dog inside,” she told me, “He’s filthy.”

“Jeffrey,” I corrected, “Has been outside for two days now; he misses the house and that’s why he’s been crying. I’ll clean him.”

She looked at me a while longer, then groaned and said, “You just go and clean him up alright.” I knew I was dismissed when she turned the opposite way and began taking foods outside of the refrigerator. That was my mom, loud and demanding but easily lovable.

Instead of starting on my homework I brought Jeffrey back outside and filled his large bucket with warm water and soap bubbles. Washing Jeffrey could be quite a task but in my eyes this was a lot easier and exciting than homework. I shushed him and scrubbed him with a large sponge. Jeffrey stayed still long enough for me to brush his teeth and carefully pour the water out into the grass. The fact that he was so cooperative was unusual, but at least that meant he was finally getting better. Maybe, if Jeffrey kept this act up, mother might start appreciating him. But that’s just a good thought; I don’t think she’s ever liked dogs, or animals for that much.

“Want to help me with my homework?” I asked Jeffrey as he shook the water off of himself. As if it were a reply, he barked two times and ran to the back door. I smiled and followed behind him.

XXXX

I closed up my last textbook and put it back into my book bag. By the time I had got through working the sun had turned into a bright moon and Jeffrey had already gone under the bed to go to sleep. The time was somewhere near eleven-o-clock so I quickly changed into my night clothes and jumped onto the bed. I had almost forgotten that Jeffrey had been under there so I climbed from out of my bed and whispered to him, “Sorry about that Jeffrey.” I heard no bark, no sign that he heard my apology and so I felt under my bed for him. He was not there. I considered going into the basement, to see if he had decided to hang out there for a moment, but I had school tomorrow and it was already too late.

Dismissing my thoughts, I yawned and softly climbed back into the bed.

I wasn’t able to go to sleep; I needed Jeffrey’s reassuring lick on my hand. I felt uncomfortable about it and a sudden realization evaded my brain.

I had not seen or heard from Jeffrey since dinner time. He went upstairs into my room during and I only assumed that he wanted to get an early start on sleeping. So I did not bother him. Now something seemed wrong, something seemed terribly wrong. If he had not been under my bed all this time then what was it that licked me when I had first put my hand under the bed before I started homework?

I had to find Jeffrey.

I tiptoed out of my room and went down the flight of stairs that lead to my kitchen. It was extremely dark and hard to see but I didn’t want to turn any of the lights on. I didn’t want to bring attention to the fact that I was up past my curfew looking for Jeffrey. In the same manner, I opened the door leading to the basement and went down the short stairwell. I flicked on the lights and called as loud as I could without getting in trouble, “Jeffrey, where are you?” Once again there was no answer, no reply. I kept going further into my basement. I went through the pool/bar room but there was no Jeffrey. He wasn’t even in his usual hiding spot under the bar seats. The only room in the basement left was the bathroom, and, although I didn’t expect him to be in there of all places, something urged for me to look in there before retreating back into my bedroom. The lights were already on and the door ajar, making creaking noises as if it wants to close but can’t. Calling for Jeffrey one more time, I cautiously made my way to the bathroom. This felt dangerous and some type of fear ignited in my body yet I could not turn around.

I had to find Jeffrey.

When I opened the door all the way I could not believe my very eyes. There was Jeffrey, but soaking with blood from his own neck that was dripping to the floor and making a large puddle. I didn’t know whether to scream or to run. He was hanging from his slit neck right across from the mirror. And the mirror...the mirror had crimson red words on it.

These words said, “Maniacs can lick too.”

XXXX

Author's Note: This is my first horror story and I really don't think it's all that scary but I had fun putting it together. My scariest horror fic is "Daemon's House" and I might just put a scene from the script on here but that won't be anytime soon. I hope you enjoyed this little story.