Story cover for The smiling face killer by JaycePecze
The smiling face killer
  • WpView
    Reads 132
  • WpVote
    Votes 9
  • WpPart
    Parts 6
  • WpHistory
    Time 11m
  • WpView
    Reads 132
  • WpVote
    Votes 9
  • WpPart
    Parts 6
  • WpHistory
    Time 11m
Ongoing, First published Nov 24, 2015
This is so crazy I said while laying on my bed! What Is happening at Devil hill high school? My mind is in so many directions. Come eat! Mom cried downstairs what are we eating I asked? Pizza I got from Madison's dinner mom said. Ok I'll be down in 5. I here a scream and I run down stairs and me and mom run outside. A smiling face man or women was outside with a hunting knife with a 8 in blade stabing it into Shelby a girl who goes to my school he kills her in the street all neighbors are sleeping the killer comes at us! Bam!! I shut the door me and mom grab a phone and run up 3 floors to are attic. We hide in the closet and lock it. I creak open the door he's in here! No-mom said. 

       Comment if u think I should write a story on this! and like!
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'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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