The Lake Of The Broken Minded

The tall, slim, pale, old man stood in his black torn old cloak near the river. His old house had been taken away years ago and his revenge was still just starting. The river was ironically in the same town as he once lived back when he owned his own house. He looked through the tinted window of the neighbors house and stared at the news. So many recent gory murders. All made by him. He slowly let the bloody knife slip out of his hand and into the deep clear river that laid at his bare feet. His shaggy black hair laid flat on his scarred face and he watched as the knife sank deeper and deeper. The blood started washing away and the piranhas swarmed it. They bit and chomped but the most of them got none of what they thought were a tasty treat. One of the rotting dolls at the bottom of the lake turned its head and stared up at the man. He nodded and the doll swam up and grabbed his knife through the crowd of flesh-eating piranhas and crept onto the shore. It looked up at the man and tossed the knife to him which he quickly pocketed. He kicked the doll back into the lake making a loud splash. The splash almost reached the top of the bridge which held clowns that were hung by a rope. In the man's mind there was no day time. Only darkness. He hadn't had food in many months but he didn't feel the pain. There wasn't anything he could truly feel anymore. The man ducked for cover as car lights from a moving truck turned into his driveway. It wasn't his anymore but he thought of it as his. A few people walked into the house and the moving truck left. The old skinny man smiled. He unpocketed his knife and slowly crept towards the door. The snakes from the river followed him hissing. He held out one finger to his mouth and the snakes quieted. He slid his knife into the window pane on the door almost effortlessly and chopped a circle in it. He stuck his long arm into the hold and unlocked the door and walked in. He closed the door and locked it behind him. As he walked down the dark and musty hallway of his old house nothing ran through his mind. Nothing except the flashbacks that reminded him of what people did to him in this house. He put his knife tip into the wallpaper and walked down the hallway slicing the wall. He turned quickly into the master bedroom and walked up to the mother. "See... Me..." He muttered into her ear. She looked up from her book and screamed. The man slapped his hand over her mouth and silenced her. "See... Me?" He asked and black tears formed in his mind. She shook her head and cried. "SEE ME!" He screamed and punched her until she was unconscious. "SEE ME, SEE ME!!!" The bathroom door unlocked and the husband walked out. He gasped and reached for his shotgun. He picked it up and blasted the man in the gut repeatedly. There was a gaping hole in his chest. The blood oozed out but he didn't feel a thing. The old man looked down at the wound and frowned. "You... Hurt... Me?" He gasped. "Me... Hurt... YOU!" He grabbed the man's shotgun and twisted the barrel with his bare bony hands. He smashed the gun over the husband's head until he was unconscious and he slumped to the bloody floor. He slowly walked out of the room and into the child's room. He heard the crying of their child. His head tilted as he saw a five year old boy bruised and beaten by his parent. Just like he had been when he was a child. He picked up the child and sat in what once was his rocking chair. He rocked back and forth as he cradled the boy. "Good. Life. I'll give you... Good life! You be... Better... Me give and care... And no hit you." He sat there for hours until he heard the cops pull in. The parents and the cops surrounded him. "UNHAND THE CHILD!" One cop screamed. The child hopped out of the old man's arms and ran to his parents. The man frowned and started to smile. "Hurt. You." He said. "Me, Hurt, You!" He ran at a cop with his knife in his hand as the cops blasted him with their guns leaving gaping holes in his body from all sides. The man dropped his knife as his blood pooled on his body. An inhuman amount of blood at that. He ran at a cop near the window and grabbed his gun. He blasted the cop in the chest killing him and jumped out the window landing in a tuck and roll. He dropped the gun and stared at his hands as a partial fragment of his sanity returned. "What have I done!?!?" He screamed. The cops made chase. The man grabbed a rope from his secret hiding spot in near the lake and ran onto the bridge. He started tying the noose to the bottom of the bridge. He glanced back at the cops who were gaining on him. He grabbed a clown wig and shoved it on his head. "It's time to join you my brethren!" He whispered into the dead clowns ears. "Five..." He said as the cops were thirty yards away. "Four... He said." The cops were twenty yards away. "THREE!" The cops were ten yards. "TWO!" The cops were five yards away. "ONE!" He screeched as the cops grabbed at him. But it was too late, the man had already jumped. The rope tightened on his neck, snapping it. The rope snapped as the dead old man fell into the river. "GET THE BODY!" The cops screamed. But the piranhas had already stripped all the flesh and meat from his bones, which were quickly swept downstream. This is the small town of Orville, Dakota. Nobody who lives there ever leaves and nobody ever goes there anymore. In the house the small boy hugged his parents. His dad patted the boys shoulder. "You were brave!" He faked a smile. The little boy looked at the hand on his shoulder. "You... Hurt Me?" He asked. "ME HURT YOU!" The child's mind had been broken. He grabbed the knife the old man had dropped. He jumped out the window and ran, never to be seen again. Or so we hope. We will never really know. But do we even want to know? The child couldn't cross the bridge. He didn't want to. He needed to finish his revenge. Five years later. The mother and the father that had lost their child five years ago looked up as they heard a tap on their windows. They slowly walked up to their windows and looked out. Nothing. They started to walk away when they heard the tapping again. They looked at the window. A man dressed in a black cloak tilted his head as he tapped the tip of a bloody knife on the window. They screamed but in the blink of an eye he disappeared. The father pressed his face against the cold window and peered outside at the dark land. A flash of lightning and the boy was back. A knife sliced through the window and the father hopped back in fright. The boy did it again and shattered the window. He dove inside. "YOU HURT ME!!!" He screeched. "NO MORE HURT! I HURT YOU, I HURT YOU!!!!!!!!" Those words rang through the almost empty house and they still do to this day. The parents screams can sometimes be heard in the minds of the neighbors. No corpses and no boy. Only blood. Lots and lots of blood. As I said, nobody goes into the neighborhood and nobody goes out... But the boy still terrorizes everyone, EVERYONE, that he sees. As the boy left with his dead parents being dragged behind him the nooses and the clowns swayed in the light breeze and the leaves were all dry. The ground crunched beneath his toes. All was silent except the tricker treaters as they screamed at dumb tricks. The moon shone brightly and the boy slowly walked deeper and deeper into the water, dragging his parents behind him and the piranhas swarmed them. He kept walking deeper. Deeper. Deeper. Soon his head was covered. No piranhas were seen but we know they were there because the blood of the three locals pooled at the top of the water. The blood drifted and no carcasses were found. That is the blood river. Ever since that day the river has been completely red. Nobody drinks out of it, and nobody will. This is the city of the dead... The city of all murders. We won't return. And we will leave. Immediately. I walked across the bridge getting farther and farther away from the city that once was great. I would never go back there again...

The End