Sweet, Sweet, Serial Killer
- Reads 59
- Votes 8
- Parts 5
When you think of a serial killer, the first image that pops into your head is the mugshot of some creepy looking dude, right? Bailey Lorelei does not fit that mould. She's the exact opposite of it, in fact. Not only is she female, but she's drop dead gorgeous. Pun intended.
**Notice: I originally had a different idea of where I was going to go with this, but now I'm going to put a moral to this story. With some life lessons. So I don't agree with the main character's claims about beauty/goodness, okay? :)
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Killing Is Thrilling
'The night was alive with silence. I moved through it like a shadow, black leather gloves tight on my hands, boots soft against the grass. My gas mask hid my face, leaving only darkness where my eyes should be. The world narrowed to a single point: the house ahead. Tonight, it would belong to me. The farmhouse rose stark and white beneath the moonlight, silent except for the occasional grunt of a pig or the low hum of a cow. They were unaware. They were insignificant. I crouched behind the hedge, eyes scanning, senses alert. Every detail mattered: the flicker of light across the curtains, the faint rustle of movement inside, the way a shadow shifted across the floor. She was there. Oblivious. Popcorn in hand, murmuring to herself as the television flickered. Every motion was a note in tonight's symphony, and I was the conductor. I studied her, cataloging. Timing. Patterns. Fear. She didn't notice me yet, and that was perfect. Patience was everything. One sound, one misstep, and it could all unravel. I rang the doorbell once. Silence. Again. Still nothing. She flinched slightly, just enough to make my pulse quicken. Her small reaction was delicious. A sudden movement in the yard caught my eye-a neighbor's dog barking at some unseen intruder. Its voice was loud, startling, but contained. I froze. My breath slowed. Patience. Observation. The dog's curiosity would pass. I remained still, hidden in shadow, letting the moment stretch. The animal lost interest and padded away. Perfect. I moved to the back of the house, hammer in hand.' ...Complete
Heart
Her name was Gabriella Quintanilla. She was a senior in high school during this time. She had the looks, all the boys, the popularity, the clothes, and even the grades. And in no way was she ignorant of any of these things--quite the opposite. She knew that she was above average in most categories of life, and had no problem reminding people repeatedly of that fact. I'm not going to lie---I didn't like her. Not at all. To be completely honest, I threatened to kill her with my bare hands. And the scary thing is, I meant it. I wanted her to die. I imagined dark fantasies of the light fading from her eyes right before my own, her pleading for me to spare her life. And in my fantasies, I wouldn't listen and I didn't care. She had tortured me for five years and I was utterly and simply sick of it all. Sick of her. My animosity towards Gabriella was no secret among my peers. Not many people liked her, so it's not like I stood alone on the concept. However I was the only one who voiced a threat. THE threat. The threat that got me on a suspect list in some cop's notepad. They want to know if I killed her. If they knew the whole story, would they blame me if I did? ©Copyright Timara M. Lewis 2013Complete
My Shadow
...I see beauty in everything you do Kimberly Grant... Kimberly was a 18 year old girl, she loves art and sees beauty in everything..She think positive inany situation until one day walking to the artgallery she saw something she would never forget ****************************** Danny Fredovale was 23 years old He was a killer, he give no mercy and don'tlove Love wasnt in his vocabulary, killing and hurting sure was..... Would kim calm the killer? Or would he kill her for seeing what happen? ******* Mature audience Bwwm relationship (black woman and white guy) Contains:killing,blood, bad language, sexual contact...been warn Hope u enjoy (slowly updating ) Ownex:by me Manda A. Don't copy my work.Complete
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California Dreamin
Everyone searches for their american dream but sometimes reality can be disappointing and you don't really know what you wish for. You must be careful with your life. That's something Nina always repeated to herself while running away from reality, desperately trying to escape her fate. She knew the truth, sooner or later she would meet him again, she feared that day more than anything. Her fear came true, he was standing in front of her, playing with her little step sister. He was the new babysitter. She couldn't run anymore. {TW!! Drugs, underage drinking and smoking, violence, blood, murder.} [based on real events, this is just for entertaining purposes, NOT IDOLIZING SERIAL KILLERS, chill out, good read.]
Stalked By A Serial Killer
"How do you feel now, Morgan?" She says, more pointing something out than asking a question. She grabs hold of my wrists and tightens them. If I could see properly I could swear I see them turn purple. "I could beat you to the bone, right here, right now, till you die from your injuries. But, I won't. You will die. Maybe not today, maybe not in a month, but you will." Well, obviously I'm going to die. Humans don't live forever. "Wonder why?" "No, and I really don't care." She answers anyway. "Because we have the power, the people, and the weapons to do it. Face it, you're defenseless against us." I feel some blood flooding my mouth, so I, being a perfectly nice person, spit it in her face. That doesn't faze her at all. "I have the strength and intelligence, something you clearly don't have. Whatever y'all do to me, it won't break me. I will put up a hell of a fight before losing. I will fight, and I will win." I turn over and look at her fellow companions. "Even if I die doing it." "Is that a risk you're willing to take?" ____________________________________ 17 year old Morgan Peters is an average girl living life. When she goes on a trip to Rio de Janeiro to watch the FIFA finals with a few friends, a serial killer committing massacres joins in on the sporty fun and shows the thousands of fans what true adrenaline is. After the games and a few bumps along the way, she returns to her hometown, and shortly starts receiving suspicious texts from an unknown number. She figures that it appears she has a stalker on her hands. Can she live with a stalker? Or will it get more mendacious, chaotic and deadly? Follow Morgan and her best friends as love sparks, secrets get released, and betrayal of family floods through their veins. ALL NAMES, INCIDENTS, AND SOME EVENTS ARE PURELY FICTIONAL! OTHERS MAY BE COINCIDENTAL. All rights reserved.Complete
shivers down my spine
A 16 year old girl, named Allison Francis. Who is a kind, sweet, generous type of girl. Who would do anything for her friends and possessive, caring natured... She also loves art. And she is falls in love with her classmate's "aura" boy but some other girls, who admire his beauty always come in between. "Are you Allison?" she asked annoyingly. "urm.. Yes I am. What do you want" I asked her in an idc tone. "Oh you are not even pretty. Ugh." She said rolling her eyes and I frowned at her way of talking. She looked way different when I saw her with Jason. "you better stay away from my man." she said while folding her hands. "I don't even know, who IS your man?" "urm.. You don't know? *scoffs* Ofcourse Jason!" I and Kelly chuckled when she mentioned Jason. She frowned and said "you better do what I say or you'll face consequences. And I am not kidding around, honey. You don't know what could happen to you." while getting closer to my face. I could see the pure evil in her eyes. She threatened me and moved away. I was still processing what she meant by her last sentence. What do you think will happen? #1 in evilbitch #65 in prom #147 lawyer #21 thanksgiving *none of the photos are mine. I am not taking credits for them.* It's my first story... I tried my best not to make it cliche.... Hope you like it. Sending Lovee ;3Complete
'The night was alive with silence. I moved through it like a shadow, black leather gloves tight on my hands, boots soft against the grass. My gas mask hid my face, leaving only darkness where my eyes should be. The world narrowed to a single point: the house ahead. Tonight, it would belong to me. The farmhouse rose stark and white beneath the moonlight, silent except for the occasional grunt of a pig or the low hum of a cow. They were unaware. They were insignificant. I crouched behind the hedge, eyes scanning, senses alert. Every detail mattered: the flicker of light across the curtains, the faint rustle of movement inside, the way a shadow shifted across the floor. She was there. Oblivious. Popcorn in hand, murmuring to herself as the television flickered. Every motion was a note in tonight's symphony, and I was the conductor. I studied her, cataloging. Timing. Patterns. Fear. She didn't notice me yet, and that was perfect. Patience was everything. One sound, one misstep, and it could all unravel. I rang the doorbell once. Silence. Again. Still nothing. She flinched slightly, just enough to make my pulse quicken. Her small reaction was delicious. A sudden movement in the yard caught my eye-a neighbor's dog barking at some unseen intruder. Its voice was loud, startling, but contained. I froze. My breath slowed. Patience. Observation. The dog's curiosity would pass. I remained still, hidden in shadow, letting the moment stretch. The animal lost interest and padded away. Perfect. I moved to the back of the house, hammer in hand.' ...
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