Hide&Seek
- Reads 737
- Votes 74
- Parts 6
Hide and seek. A child's game. A game of entertainment. A game where the seeker counts and the hiders hide in cupboards and small spaces. A game where all the hiders shush each other so that the seeker can't find them. But the seeker always finds them. The seeker has to find them or else the game isn't over. Whoever the seeker finds first must swap places with them. Hide and seek. A game of passtime. A game of fun. A child's play. But I am 18 years old and I still play, but there is a slight twist to my version. I am the seeker and I'm out seeking revenge upon the hider; my mother's murderer.
When Reece Azizi comes home one ordinary day he finds his mother dead in their own home, he swears to his mother's soul that he week avenge her death.
"I will make them pay. I promise you mom."
He searches every space, every corner, every nook and cranny yet still finds nothing. Murder after murder happens but the hider leaves no clue as to where he is or who he is; nothing except a tattoo. However there is one other thing that links the bloodbath together; Reece.
18 seekers and one hider. 18 deaths and one murderer.
Welcome to a game where there are no rules. A game where you are free to do as you please. A game where once involved you can never back out and must pay the consequences if you lose. A game where revenge is the prize. A game where not egos, but lives are lost. It's no longer an innocent child's play but a mass-murder mystery. Join in if you think you think you can survive. The more seekers the easier the job.
Welcome to a game where there are no life guarantees.
Welcome to Reece's game of Hide&Seek.
"3...2...1... Coming, Ready Or Not!"
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#31
prologue
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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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