Friday, 4 January 2013

Twitter Fiction

The sound of glass shattering echoed sharply. I held my breath.

It took me almost two minutes to creep silently down the thirteen stairs.

Knife gripped so tightly that my knuckles were white, despite the dark.

I blinked 2 times, it felt as if my eyes were closed, but they weren’t.

I could hear my heartbeat in my ears; it was doing 120 beats a minute at least.

My heartbeat sounded deep and sinister, something I had never heard before. The kitchen was on the left.

I decided the best plan of action was to open the door quickly and flick on the light, surprise whoever stood in my way.

It wasn’t just me in this house, I wasn’t alone.

I was about to open the door. The helicopter searchlight made one last sweep, illuminating the room and then it was gone.

I stood frozen in the light until the loud thump of the blades melted into the night, until I was back in the quietness only darkness can bring.

I standed alone, and waited. I knew I had heard the noise come from this room.

I lifted my leg to kick in the door, but I felt something rub along the back of it.

I turned around quickly, trying not to stab myself with the knife I was holding.

Oh, it was just the cat. It continued down the hallway, running silently as if it hadn’t even seen me. As if I was a ghost. Thank god.

I refocused my attention to the kitchen. My ribs were the only thing holding my heart in place. I kicked the door in.

The glow of the candle light coming from the corner was enough to reveal I was all alone.

I lowered my knife, took a deep breath and proceeded quietly to the bedroom.

The room was consumed in darkness, when I got there.

The door was open. Whoever else was in the house was definitely in this room. I lunged inwards, knife first.

A dark figure appeared in the corner, it was a woman. She shriveled into the form of a ball, and tucked her head into her body.

The glass crunched on the floor, below my boots as a walked slowly towards her.

She must have knocked it off her bed table when she heard me creep down the stairs. Her mouth opened, in a bloody voiced she hollered.

“Who are you, get out of my house!” Silence flooded the room; my mouth was dry and chalky. I could still taste dinner from the institution.

Man I hated that place. My grip on the knife loosened, until I clenched so hard it began to hurt.

“It’s me baby, Paul.” “Don’t you remember me?” I spoke so softly, but it still echoed in the room. The lady didn’t answer.

Paul was her husband, and the reason I ended up in that fucking place!

She began to cry and an overwhelming sense of accomplishment flooded my thoughts. I started to whistle a tune, and slowly walk towards her.

I knew she couldn’t see my face, but it didn’t even matter.

As I picked up my pace, she stood up, and darted to the door. “Where, you going beautiful?”

She didn’t even have time to answer.

I plunged the knife through her chest.

The aroma of blood filled the room. Sweet, with a hint of iron. Her body dropped to the floor. I knew she wasn’t getting up.

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