I remember the day so vividly; I got in the back seat to go to my grandpas 85th birthday party. He was officially the longest living person in our family. I like him a lot. I don't really like the rest of my family. I like Kevin, he'll live a long time.
The rest of my family died in weird or abnormal ways. My aunt Tammy, pushed off a cliff, my uncle Dave, dismembered and served in a restaurant and my cousin Mathew, heart attack.... at age 13. Turns out if one puts air in a syringe and puts it between the toes or fingers it simulates a heart attack. Ahh I was a mischievous child.
That's what I do at night, I plan my fun, decide how to do the next one. I'm slumberless at night yet I somehow find little sleep. I wake the next morning it was a Sunday, a day to visit my dead family. I wear all white, anything to play up my innocence. I take my earned drivers license and drive to the greenhouse and pick out nicely blooming white flowers. I had towards the cemetery and I notice there's a black coache behind me; I drift back to a memory of a funeral of my first victim.
I was three years old yet I had the IQ of Sherlock Holmes. I stood at the feet of my father, he understood me (mostly).
...................
Hey so this is my first story. I'm just trying this out. Let me know how I can improve.
~snail
