Author: EugeneSapphire PM
pronounced like boy . This is the story of a young boy who gets abandoned after a plane accident with his adoptive family and learns to survive alone. Teaching himself to read/write/do math, he becomes one of world's most wanted killers.Rated: Fiction M - English - Horror/Tragedy - Chapters: 2 - Words: 2,791 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 1 - Updated: 02-25-09 - Published: 02-17-09 - id: 2636803
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I dropped his body as I felt it go limp. I stood there, looking down at the body of the boy. I searched through his clothes for any items, but found only a small packet of matches. I took it and shoved it in my pants pocket. Glancing between him and the ditch, I came up on a thought that suited my feelings well. I grinned and grabbed him by both ankles, dragging him along the road. After bringing him up the road a ways until I was satisfied, I stopped. Glancing around, I kneeled beside him. I smiled and rolled him into the ditch, being sure to lay him facedown.
"Stupid boy," I said to myself as I went to get my jar from where I dropped it to enable myself to put the boy in a headlock. I picked up the jar and walked back over to the ditch. I kneeled down and filled the jar back up, after washing the blood from my hands. I rose to my feet and walked back toward the city. After I walked about a mile, the sun had risen to tell it was about mid-day.
After another half-mile or so, I began to hear screaming and crying as a woman yelled and the distance. I assumed it was the mother or female relative of the boy I just murdered. Keeping my cool, I kept walking. I managed to make it back into the city by the time I heard emergency sirens wailing.
I decided to stay out all day and wait until the quiet of night to go back into my hole to keep anyone from seeing me. I walked down 9th street for a while, it's the street where my hole is located, between a little out-of-business coffee shop and an old closed-down apartment building. I walked until I reached a small store, filled with shelves lined with books, next to a cafe. I walked up to the door of the library. It said CLOSED on the door. I guess, by the fact that no one was in there, which meant no one could go in. I memorized the word and then looked under that sign. There was another sign that read HOURS: MON-FRI 8 a.m. to 7 p.m.; SAT 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.; SUN CLOSED. I stood there, trying to comprehend what that meant. I assumed that it was Sunday. I turned back around, to face the street, to memorize the surroundings so I knew where to come tomorrow. I walked a little further up the street and then decided to turn onto Nightengale Lane. It was the fourth street up from where my hole was.
"Did you hear about the murder out there on that country road, somewhere out there by Jacksonville Avenue, I think," I heard one lady dressed in riding clothes and hat say as I passed her and her friend on the sidewalk.
"Yeah, poor boy. It's been a while since we've had a murder here in Madison," I heard the other lady say before their voices droned out of hearing range. I walked on, wondering where the ladies had come from to be dressed like that. Just as I was going to shake my head of it, I came up on an area of fenced pasture land. Curious, I walked up to the fence. I looked over the area to find it fenced off in several, straight sections, perpendicular to me. I also saw these creatures, four-legged and long-necked. I assumed these where what my mother had called horses. There were several of them, all split between the different fenced areas. There was a grey one in the pasture I was closest to. She had her head down, grazing on the short, but well-kept grass. She occasionally swatted at a fly with her tail or stomped a foot, as if being impatient about something. After sitting on the wooden fence rail for a while, I climbed down and began walking back the way I came.
Walking past the neighborhoods, I saw kids playing, but none of them were dared let out without parental supervision. Some of the parents would gape at me, or cover their mouths in fear at the sight of me out walking alone. I began to hum to myself as I reached 9th street again. My water jar had long been empty and I kept my eyes open for a place I could refill it, and soon I hoped. As I made progress along 9th I found a ditch filled with some still water, but quickly turned it down as I realized there were mosquito larvae growing in it. My throat dry and my mouth crusty, I walked on. My right hand clung to my water jar and my left hand stayed in my pocket, stuck to my pocket knife and the matches I had obtained earlier. The miles drug on as I traveled down 9th street. I passed neighborhoods to my left, energy plants to my right. My legs began to get weak as I made it across Pinocio Street, hospital, fire station, Corporative Avenue, cafe, and library. Around sunset, when I reached the grocery store, I sat on the curb for rest.
"It's getting dark we better get inside. With a killer around it's not safe, I'm sure," I heard a man whisper to his wife as they headed toward the nearest set of apartment buildings. "That poor homeless kid, he might get hurt."
"Oh, don't say that Harry," the women said sadly, "it makes me sad to think about It." and with that the gate closed behind them. A smile reached my face as I heard the city's talk. They were all scared of me. After happily accepting this thought, I stood up, and picked up were I left off. My feet were sore and my mind was ready for a nights sleep. I crossed Bush Court as the lights in Rin's Clothing went out. Smiling, I waited as the owner left, locking the doors behind him. Waiting until it was clear, I snuck over to the doors and peered inside. I took my pocket knife out of my pocket and flipped it open. I then took the matches out of my pocket and struck one. I let the tip of my blade sit in the flame until the match burned out. Then I quickly cut out a hole in the glass. With the killer warning over the city, nobody was out now that it was dark. I pushed the glass in and crawled through the hole.
I stood up and looked around. Making sure I steered clear of windows, I began to look around the store. It wasn't until I walked in front of a mirror that I was reminded of how my face looked. The burns on my face were now only scars that once made me scared of mirrors. I had one big, round, burn scar on both cheeks from where my father had put my face to an electric stove out of anger with my mother for feeding me before he got home, shortly after that I was abandoned.
"No! Donnie! Put him down! he didn't do anything wrong! I did it! Not him!" Mamma cried, tears streaming down her face. She held her hands in the air like they were bound, trying to plead with him. "Punish me! Please, Donnie," She cried as my father turn on the electric stove, holding me by the throat in his right hand, dangling me in the air.
I closed my eyes to rid my brain of the thoughts of the pain what he had done caused. It was painful on many different levels and I couldn't rid myself of the humiliation that I was going to get revenge for. Even if I had to teach myself everything I needed to know.