Twisted Hopus Story

Dance for Me, My Puppet

The knife slid in and out of his soft skin, puncturing every point it touched, blood seeping from the gaping entrances, dribbling down his skin, drained of colour, to the cold floor. The people in the crowd watched for a moment, and then taken off- they all valued their own lives above this random stranger's life. Understandable but still. . . selfish, selfish, selfish.

I smirked to myself as I ran the blade through my current victim's cheeks, the skin ripping in a jagged line, the smile so contrasting to the sheer horror in his eyes, the life slowly draining from his body as he went limp and collided with the floor, a sickening crunch indicating that his fragile bones had capsized under the weight of his lifeless form.

I turned around and slid my eyes through the crowd. So the others had fled the castle. I looked down, upon my brother at my feet, noticing a pair of glass flats on his feet, glossy and gleaming in the light of the ballroom. I ripped them off his feet and cradled them to my chest as I began to leave.

I chuckled slowly and psychotically as I stalked down the steps, men and women alike throwing themselves from my wake with gasps and shrieks of terror.

I ran into the cool night, the cold air slamming into my skin and ripping through my hair. Warm blood ran down both of my arms- a faint feeling came over my brain, but I welcomed it, embracing my fate. I knew I would not die until the last drop of blood hit the floor; I wouldn't not give the world the satisfaction of a scream until my dead body hit the ground.

The path unfolded before me, cobble stones and pathways flying beneath my feet as I ran the way to the place I used to live, Not home. Home would imply that I had a positive connection to the place- something that was definitely not there.

I slowed as I came to the familiar gates, the oh so familiar feeling of revenge filling my cold blood as I stalked the small distance up the steps.

Behind the door I heard gasping breaths that weren't panicked they sounded. . . pleasurable. Ugh, the sounds of that wretched reproduction process. I wanted to see if there was a way to get inside and avoid them. But instead I just caught a glimpse of one of the weirdest ménage à trois in the history of the world. I know I had advised them to have fun but this isn't what I meant. I shuddered in disgust and backed away from the window holding the glass shoes.

-----------Around 15 minutes Later-----------

I had finally made my way inside and I had to kill my way through servants who found out about what I had done at the ball.

I still had the body for once and decided to play with it just to tease its soul. The glass shoes I fit onto one of the male servants crushed under the weight of his dead body. On the puppet show continued, until his feet became nothing but merely mutilated stubs at the end of his legs, his body retching and shaking in the sheer pain. I dropped the strings, his body hitting the ground with a dull thud.

"Bye bye." I said simply, the knife slamming through the back of his neck, drawing it out slowly before smashing it back in once more, pleased with this torturous death he deserved.

I had laughed psychotically, the stitches across my face bending as my laughter echoed throughout the empty mansion. Or so I thought-

Once my laughter died down, three slow claps resounded behind me, echoing through my ear drums. My pupils dilated and my heart stopped with an internally loud thud, my entire body almost shutting down. The feeling I got was similar to one a child would feel if they were caught sneaking food from the pantry by their parent. I turned around to lock my eyes with the intruder on my perfect revenge.

Shock once again pulsed through me as my eyes met theirs, the knife sliding from my palm, clashing loudly with the floor. . .