The Massacre

This story will be graphic. It will depict the murder of quite a few people. If you aren't comfortable with that, tading or read at your own risk. I hope you aren't squemish.

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June 13, 2011

One year is all I have.

            In this world, people are capable of being cruel beyond words. I need to one up it.

How can I be so cruel to kill many people? The answer is simple- motive. Motive makes the world go round. Why does the American government tax people? They have a motive. When you what television shows with detectives, what is the second thing they search for? Motive.

            Motive, I have plenty. At least, I say it is motive enough. Other people would think differently. You see, my great grandfather was accused of murder. Eight actually. The Villisca Axe Murders hadn’t been widely known, but they still haunt this town. The house on the edge of town is still avoided by most of town’s people.

            I walked slowly away from it, relishing in the terrible energy that surrounded the place. Yes, I believed in ghosts and energies. You could feel the heaviness in the air.

            My home wasn’t far from the house, just a few blocks away. It only took about twenty minutes to get home. The house was white with two stories and bright yellow curtains. I walked in through the door that hung wide open.

            “Mama, I’m back!”

            “Baby girl, get in here and help me,” She sang from the family room.

            “’Kay, Mama,” I slipped off my shoes and went in the direction of her voice. She was standing on a chair from the dining room with a hammer in one hand while holding up a mirror.

            “Come hold this, please.”

            I grabbed the edges of the mirror and held it in place. She must have just bought it because I’d never seen it before. It was big with a dark wood frame around it. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Dark hair that almost black framed my face making my skin seem paler and my hazel eyes looked brighter. My fair skin was a bit tanner than normal because of the summer sun.

            “Thank you baby,” She kissed my forehead and hopped down from the chair. My mom wasn’t a very tall person, about 5’3”, which made me feel monstrous at my 5’ 10”. Apparently I’d had a tall father. 

            “I’m going upstairs now.”

            “Have fun,” She replied sarcastically, knowing full well why I was going upstairs. You see, I hated helping my mother rearrange the furniture, so I always fled to my room before she could weasel me into it.

            “I will.” I ran up the steps taking them two at a time until I reached the landing. I walked past my mother’s room and the small yellow room she had made into a nursery for the baby she had had a stillborn baby six months earlier. I peeked into the dark room. The curtains were drawn; the yellow walls appeared almost bleak and colorless. The faint scent of baby powder clung to the air. Stuffed animals lined the walls, staring at nothing. The saddest part of the room though, was the empty basinet in the center of the room.

            It depressed my mother to walk by the room  

            I thought it was better that it had died. Who would want to have a father like that? Of course, I didn’t know my father. I’d asked mom before, but got nothing from her. I needed to know, for reason I’d not like to explain just yet.

            To plan a perfectly planned out murder like the ones I had intentions of committing several times over in different ways. You always started with a plan. A meticulously planned murder was better than a sloppy one.

            I made my way toward the attic where my room was. When mom had found out about the baby, she had moved me up there without asking. But the room was warm and inviting with each wall was a different color and a large bed in the center that was covered in a bright orange bedspread and bright colored pillows.

            I walked over to my desk and pulled out a note book. First step, in planning the perfect murder- choose a victim.

            My first Victim- Graclyn Gemm. She was the queen of the school and tortured me constantly. Now wouldn’t she look pretty underwater?