|An Ice Rink Murder
Author: SpinningEarth PM
This is just something random I thought of when I was skating at an ice rink...I hope who ever takes a look at this enjoys it!Rated: Fiction T - English - Horror/Crime - Words: 1,751 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 3 - Published: 01-20-13 - Status: Complete - id: 3093744
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
An Ice Rink Murder
I make sure I have everything I need. I don't need much, but the absence of an item could falter my plan. I check and make sure my spare hoodie is in my small pull-string backpack. Both are a dark navy blue so they won't stand out. My fine edged knife is stowed safely in my hidden jeans pocket along with my leather wallet. I think I am ready.
I slip my bright green hoodie on over my black long-sleeved taut turtleneck and leave my small home. I get in my car, placing my bag in the passenger seat next to me, before putting my black Prius in drive.
I soon notice it's storming outside after exiting my garage. It doesn't matter to me though. Rain or no rain, my mind is still set. Within fifteen minutes I reach my destination. Parking as near as I can to the building, I grab my bag and do my best to dodge the pouring bullets of rain as I run up to the front doors. I enter the ice rink and face the lady at the counter.
"Will you need a skate rental?" she asks.
"Yes please," I reply flashing her my perfect white teeth.
"That will be twelve dollars." My calm and steady hand passes her the money. "Here's your skate rental ticket. The Saturday night free skate runs from six to nine-thirty." I thank her and enter.
I head straight to the restrooms, thankfully they're all empty. Everyone must already be on the ice. I look at my watch and notice it's already 6:10 pm. I quickly peel off my green hoodie and pull the navy one out of my bag. I put this one on and pull the strings so my face isn't the most visible. I saturate the green hoodie in the sink and place it in the bag. I throw the bag into the big garbage bin and toss paper towels over it just to be safe. The last thing to do is move my knife. I go into a stall just in case someone enters. I pull my knife out from my jeans pocket and place it into a hidden pocket in my hoodie sleeve, easy to get to. Exiting the stall I look at myself in the mirror. I look fine, calm, and normal. I feel the same, which I was not expecting. I always thought I would feel nervous, hesitation, maybe even fear. I feel nothing except a little excitement. Maybe this is the right path for me. And that's what scares me the most.
I head out of the bathroom and go straight to the skate rental counter. My skates are on my feet in two minutes. I begin to push through the group of parents that are crowding the entrance and taking pictures of their children who can barely even stand on the ice. I vow to myself that I will never be one of those parents if I ever have kids. The way those parents treat their children like they are more important than anything on and in this earth. And they grow up thinking like they are too. You can tell by the way some walk when they're older, the way some talk, and even their simple body language. It all disgusts me because chances are they'll just end up being another small grain of sand on the big beach.
My mind has veered off again. I must concentrate for this to work.
For the next two I just focus on skating in circles around the rink, getting used to the feel of the ice underneath my feet again.
When I was younger my dad would make an ice rink for me to skate on in a clearing in the woods. He would dump buckets of water on the solid ground when the temperature went below freezing. I would spend hours in the winter just skating in circles while my father went off and hunted in the woods with his rifle for supper. I will never forget the way my skates sound when I do a sharp turn, just like a sharp blade slicing through the empty air. Or the sound when I come to an abrupt stop, just like when you're shoveling snow and you go too deep and the shovel scrapes against the frozen cement. These noises will live with me forever and it's a blessing to hear them again tonight.
"What's up, people! Just saying we have an hour left of skating for tonight." I hear the DJ say into his speaker. "So, let's make the rest a real PAR-TAY!" The DJ turns the blasting music up even louder, dims the lights more, and adds some strobe lights to go along with the already running disco balls. It now looks and sounds like your average American jungle, which is perfect for my plan.
The rink is more crowded than ever. The time is nearing for me to do it. I pull over to a nearby wall. And slide the knife from my sleeve into my front hoodie pocket. I pull on a glove to cover up all my finger prints. I plan to stab the first person who is open, a good target, and is near the exit I wish to use. I start skating slowly, going in the direction that the majority of people are heading. I'm clutching the knife handle in my pocket when a young women flies by me from the opposite direction. I pull my knife out and hide it by my side just as I see a young man chasing after her and heading towards me. I skate right into the man which isn't hard to do considering his speed. I stab him in the stomach with my gloved hand making his smile disappear. To the people around it just looks like we both took a crash and a nasty fall. They can't see the knife sticking out of his gut because he's hunched over on his stomach. No one seemed to be paying attention to either of us anyway. The lack of light helped me with that and his scram was drowned out by the blaring music.
I quickly stand up and go through my exit door. I take my skates off in record time and place them on the counter before slipping my shoes on. I start jogging to the building's front doors and am about to push them open when I hear a lady scream. The piercing noise is filled with the raw emotions of pain, rage, worry, and fear. I smirk to myself and push the door open, exiting the crime scene.
I run to my car as fast as my legs can take me. The rain has stopped but the clouds still look threatening. Once inside I lock the doors and pull the glove off, noticing it has the man's blood on it, I throw it to the ground.
I start my car and begin driving. I don't know where I'm headed yet. I just know I need some time to contemplate what I've just done. I end up parking in an empty parking lot. Once my car is in park I break down and surprise myself by sobbing and feeling deep remorse. My sobs are so strong I feel the car slightly shake. I almost pull out my hair from the anger I'm feeling right now. Why did I just let myself kill an innocent man. How could I?
Once I've calmed down some, I sit in deafening silence, thinking just thinking. I don't think I am a psycho killer. All the excitement had disappeared when I had realized what I had just done. But there was something there when I did it and the few moments prior. Something that I can't pin-point, a certain feeling. I still can't fathom why I let myself do that. I was raised better than that, wasn't I? That's when a memory is brought up to the front of my mind.
My father and I always used to hunt together when I was younger. He always used his rifle except this one day when it was broken. He took knives instead. I was only seven then. But I remember it was horrible. He would throw the knives so fast and hard at the animals. And I would watch the life leave their eyes as they bled to death on the ground. With guns they died instantly. When I cried for my father to stop, he said,
"Why? We need to eat don't we. We're the ones with the knives. We're the ones in control here." Then he flashed the bloody knives near my face causing me to back up and fall over sharp rocks. I scraped both my elbows and they got all bloody. That day I looked at my father like he was a monster. That was the only time something like that happened. He was drunk that day and didn't even remember. But I did, and I always will think of him as a monster.
I wonder if that incident has something to do with what I did tonight. I wonder if I subconsciously thought me being the monster would keep other monsters from finding me.
I decide to go home and get some rest before I plan my next move. When I turn my car on I notice it needs fuel so I stop at a near gas station. I get out of my Prius, the station is nearly empty. There is only one other car across from mine. The wind is picking up. It feels like another storm is about to arrive. I pull my wallet out of my pocket and turn around to slide the credit card into the machine slot when I hear fast paced footsteps behind me. Soon I feel a sharp pain in my back and I fall over. A masked man is standing over me with a bloody knife. He grabs my wallet and card from the ground before he runs off. He doesn't even look back.
"It looks like a monster still found me," I mutter to myself as I feel death take over me.