He was slowly walking towards me. His fingers were slowly turning into fists. I didn't know what to do I was trapped there was no way I could escape from him. The room was dark. The curtains were drawn so the only light that was in the room was from the top of the curtains. That light shone directly on him. He was still wearing the apron. Still there were red splotches on him. But the closer he got the more I saw. On his fist was crusty blood. On his trousers was hair long curly blonde. Which was very unusual as nobody in this estate had a dog. Now he was only a foot away from me. I could smell his horrid breath. His face was all red and sweaty and it read anger. He started to raise his hand slowly. Now I could see it was no spatula he was holding. This was a small cleaver. There was blood dripping down from it.
He was right in front of me now. He put his hand on my shoulder and brought the cleaver to my throat. I was petrified. I didn't know what I was going to do. As he was about to slash he stopped. The cleaver was only about an inch away from my stomach. He lowered his hands and looked to the floor and smirked. That smirk led to a grin. Then that grin led to a laugh. Not a laugh like when you hear a funny joke. This was a cruel laugh. Laugh of accomplishment. He stopped laughing his face was serious now. He started whispering still not taking his eyes of mommy.
"She deserved everything," then he paused as if he was thinking. "Do you want to see how I did it?" He asks raising his hand with the cleaver.
YOU ARE READING
There shall be sadness
TerrorHi how are you? I'm Isabelle. I would love it if you can follow me into a journey into the past. First we will visit my past and if your good we can visit your past
