When you're performing a break-in, a few thoughts often go through your head, the main thought is to stay calm and quiet, this will Instill calmness in the home before you enter, and shall avoid the family being ready for such acts to occur. After 10, what probably felt like a long 30 minutes to the Quakers outside not talking and standing in silence. I bet they were terrified with cornfields whipping around behind them, thinking something might come out of there and eat them alive before they got a chance to sacrifice my parents in their beds.
Mr. and Mrs. Quaker proceeded to sneak inside the back door. Grabbing the doors weathered and rusted knob from the humidity in the air and centuries of people grabbing it. Mr. Quaker delicately turned It and very softly pushed the door open a crack focusing on making as little noise as possible. After a couple of minutes listening in at the door, The Quakers made their way into my home.
In the doorway, there is enough carpet there to keep the floor from creaking. The same brown and gold runner carpet with a zigzag pattern from upstairs is run from the backdoor to the living room.
The Quakers proceed to walk very slowly down the runner. Mrs. Quaker holding the kitchen knife she had hidden under her garment, and Mr. Quaker was holding a hammer in one hand, and a chisel in the other. His face was beginning to look like he was being taken over by the devil. The moonlight ever so slightly creeping through the back window contrasting a glow on the blood splatters left on his face from the recent beaten to a pulp crow. They pass by the closet that my father had taken the baseball bat from.
Mrs. Quaker taps her husband on the shoulder and nudges her head toward the closet to indicate that someone in the house may have grabbed something out of it. He signals her to keep moving. On their left-hand side are the stairs, in front of them is the living room, and on the other side of the stairs is the kitchen.
They proceed up the spiral staircase. Mr. Quaker leading the way one step at a time as cautiously as one could on the hardwood at nighttime. When Mr. Quaker reached the 4th step, Mrs. Quaker joined, she took her first step and a loud creak in the stair echoed through the hallway down to my room, that's when I knew for sure someone else was in the house. Terrified as one would be at the age of 7, I began to gather all my comforting objects in my room, gently placed them in my backpack, and shuffled my way under the bed.
They paused, looked at each other and Mr. Quaker put his index finger up to his mouth and said Shhhhh. He put his hands up showing all 8 fingers and 3 thumbs and counted down 10 seconds. 10....9.....8..... Once he reached 1 they proceeded to the top of the stairs. It was obvious they would be able to see my parents sleeping from the crack in the door leading to the first room on the left.
My parents were sound asleep, Dad snoring loudly from the constant hey fever that forms when living on a farm. He always slept on his right side, and my mother never went a night without falling asleep staring at the ceiling.
I tiptoed to the door and put my ear against it to see if I could hear anything. I could hear Mr. Quaker open my parents' bedroom door and creep across the runner that was at the end of the bed. Mrs. Quaker sneaked over to my mothers' side of the bed holding the kitchen knife up in the air, as she got closer she would have seen that my mother sleeps with her eyes a slight bit open. She looks almost as if she's awake. A loud snore that could have woke the whole house came about and it startled Mrs. Quaker. She with all of her force stabbed as quickly and fast as she could into my mothers chest.
Gasping for air my mother woke up screaming and tried to grab Mrs. Quakers wrist, the one with the knife in it.
The sudden noise gave Mr. Quaker no option but to start smashing my father as hard as he could with the rusty old hammer, with each hit I'm sure he saw gruesome flashbacks of the crow he killed earlier.
With all the terrifying noises I could hear — The screaming and choking in the other room— I stood at the door urinating in fear they'd come for me next.
That's when I grabbed a few more items —- My two favorite dolls— and placed them into my bag. I climbed out my window —Having done this before last summer there was no hesitation. Below the window was a vine trellis covered in green leaves, It was quite new and sturdy enough to climb down. So I did it, step by step.
Halfway down the trellis, I heard a coyote howl at the top of its lungs, It sounded like it came from right next to me my heart sank and my body jittered making my foot slip. The nightgown I was wearing got caught on one of the end joints of the trellis causing me to fall busting the wood on the way down. One of my dolls fell out of my bag and landed in the wet soil watered from earlier in the day. I quickly grabbed it and started running towards the road wiping the debris from my doll's face before putting back into my bag.
The front door closed and I could hear the eerie engine sound of the Quaker's car turning over. I began to run faster down the driveway running out of breath into the dark where even the moonlight didn't stretch.
**************** AUTHORS NOTE *******************
This was always a nightmare of mine growing up so I decided to write it into a chapter.
Hope you all enjoy this part.
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Thank you all for taking the time to read this.
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The Two That Killed My Parents .... And Me (Short Story)
HorrorIn 1925 My parents were murdered in their backcountry home for a secret they've been keeping from the town of Fleet. A secret that no one should have to keep in the first place. #10 IN SOUTHERN SHORT STORY [8000 words] *****Disclosure, this book...
