Short Original Horror Stories

3. There Were Ten

With time I learned a thing or two. Do you know what's it like to have a secret desire to kill? There was ten of them, to begin with. Every single one of them was loud and wouldn't shut up. I guess they were excited. You know?

One of them got up and tried to take me down, the curious little fellow, he picked up a blade I had left aside for later and clutched me tightly. Instead of screams as the fellow expected, all that erupted from me was my gleeful laughter. Ah, the game has commenced, hasn't it?

Every night I'd get bored here alone in my cabin in the woods. So I'd make it my duty to go hunting for a proper game. Man is my favorite I must admit. Very interesting indeed, not as predictable as the animals in the wild.

"Hello there, are you up for some sport?" I sneered at the poor man who unconsciously was losing his grip in fear. "I guess not. But then again, I wasn't asking you."

The man said nothing.

"NOW. . .for the rest of you. . .I recommend you all be silent and willing. That way I promise it will be a quick death."

In that instance, the man who had bravely tried to annihilate me was white with fear. All the blood from his face left him and I immediately saw the chance to take the blade to slice the delicate skin under his chin.

The man fell to the floor choking with his owns fluids, his own blood was betraying him filling up from the cut, he coughed and wheezed wanting it to stop but nothing came to his aid. Then he stopped all movement at once.

Nine.

One of the little girls began to whimper and look in horror as the man's body laid there paused in the eternity of time. She watched with her young brown eyes following the dark crimson river of blood shaping into a monstrous figure, flashing and drenching the floor with a foul smell.

"What did I say about making noise?" I asked

The girl only cried in fear averting my gaze. I despise it. I walked up to her, my breath now hot on her face.

"WHAT. Did. I. SAY?!" I shouted.

"To. . .not do it."

"Exactly."

She is young but old enough to understand what was being said. Then a woman roared my way with an amusing tone of voice.

"LEAVE HER ALONE!"

A man followed her as well, "Please. Let her go. Take us instead."

"Are those your parent?"

Maybe she didn't do it because she wanted to but because it was instinct, she slowly nodded and then gasped in a whisper when she realized what she had done.

I smiled and an ingenious idea was summoned into my head.

"Alright then." I nodded "Let's bring the family together again one last time. No?"

The mother and father gently neared their daughter and hugged her close, while I began to seek my next method. I held my gun and began to prepare for the fun, it glistened in the dimity of my little home but it was still an eye-catching beauty.

"Times UP. Good night!" I turned in a rush and quickly got all three but hit the girl on her arm. You could say it was by accident or luck but no, I had this planned. Once again I neared her as she shivered and shrieked.

"It's soft. I can fix that. . . " I swiped her other arm away and examined my shot. She knew that I wasn't going to help and the crowd was silent petrified in fear.

A simultaneous flaring burning sensation in her arm caused her to cry. I tapped the wound lightly before puncturing the tissue and feeling the warm insides. I shoved my finger deep into the bullet hole, looking for any further damage to be done.

She bellowed out as the fireworks she felt sent stinging signals. she could no longer help but brawl in cunning ascending pitches in songs of agony as I continued to torment her blithely.

I removed my bloodied finger after pleasing myself in the disturbing yelps that escaped the tortured soul and then turned to the fearing remaining crowd.

"I'm going to ask you all a question. . ."

The girl blinked feebly and pondered when shall her suffering end.

". . .Do you know why humans like violence?" I cast a questioning jeer, "It's because we find pleasure in the suffering of others. In reality, we are all guilty. We all want to win and seeing such massacres are relieving, to think opponents have been wiped. . ."

The girl had had enough of my lecture. It was now or never she thought to herself.

Six.

I molded my mouth into a smile as I ended my sentence, strangely the crowd backed away. I brushed the girl's hair before I pushed her next to the previous masses and looked at the rest.

I want to acknowledge that during those primitive years for me when I stabbed them, they wouldn't just fall dead, it was strange to me at first but then I realized that once the blade collides with the subject, it may gasp a little before it drained to death. It was slow, but it was interesting to watch. It depends where you cut too! I believe it should have been obvious but I never saw wrong to experiment. I found it cute sometimes, the whines of the children when their parents became rubbish. I never understood them though, they'd yell and shout, holler too. So I had to shut them up quick before they'd uncover me, they were easier, to be honest, but much of a bore.

Five.

Four.

These last three were exciting for me, they would be the ones to close it off. I sprang at one and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. He spat and cursed me, my breath hot on his face.

I grabbed a rope from my back and tied it around his neck swiftly. I saw as his flesh begin to strain and the blood seeped out, he looked a lot less tough now in the struggle. I let him enjoy himself a while more until he went down on his knees, bleeding. The rope looks great on him, such a luxurious accessory! I laugh. Even in the pain, this man felt, he began to curse at me again! What did I do? In my heavy outrage, I was tired of it and took out a knife and waited for the right time to remove that mouth of his, right there in front of those other two.

Then I was the one, who began to curse and stomp. He lay there, moaning on the ground after all the afflicted speech and with his hoarse throat. Useless now. I wasted another.

And then there were two.

For these two I have a plan. I instructed them to go at each other and the winner leaves. You are thinking that I'm am lying. Of course, I am, but the game is too fun either way. I guess the one who dies first is lucky--they don't face me. 

They are civil and resisted but when I begin to threaten them they are compelled to do as I say. They were yelling and screaming at each other like barbarous brutes. One was left.

I grabbed this one and craved it like an animal, alive and mind open, she ripped into sherds efficiently.

And then there were none. 

I know it's me when I turn to my bathroom mirror but something wasn't right. I count again the pile of bodies. One. . . six. . . ten. . .eleven?

No. It's ten. An article in my head was contradicting me but I fought it.

I go back to where the game had occurred and examined the mound of contorted limbs and remains. ten. I run back to the bathroom. . . now eleven. For the first time in my living presence, I discover that my brain is too much for me. I reach for the gun and aim directly to the person's forehead. I notice the stranger is doing the same and when I find the right angle, I smile. The person does too, odd.  Forget it I thought, It's the last thing the stranger will ever do.

I shoot. 

I was right. 

It was the last thing.