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Slightly disturbing story. Read it anyway. Comments/criticisms welcome.
He stood on a smooth rock under the waterfall, as the cool, crisp, clear water came tumbling down in swirls, soaking him to the skin, through his clothes. His long black hair was plastered to the sides of his face, his eyes were shut and he was twirling slowly round with his arms held aloft. The water cooled him, soaked him, enveloped him, but, more importantly, purified him. He stood like this for a few minutes, before he jumped down into the plunge pool and waded slowly over to the bank, where he stripped naked, abandoning his wet clothes and drying roughly with an old towel. Then, when he was sufficiently dried off, he donned a white hooded robe and lifted up an elaborately crafted dagger, about eight inches long with a wavy blade. It had designs which looked like Celtic swirls engraved on the blade, and had a gold pommel. The black haired man lifted up a crown of mistletoe and placed it on his head, then knelt down and began a low mumbling at the foot of an oak tree, making slow deliberate passes of his body with the dagger. Seeming satisfied, he heaved himself to his feet and walked off.
Robert knew what he had to do. He had known since the operation. Ever since he had nearly died after the car accident, part of him had crossed over to the other side, and that part had seen what was wrong with his family. They were not cleansed, they worshipped fake gods. The god they worshipped in the buildings was a fraud. The real gods were to be worshipped in stone circles, and in sacred oak groves.
He had tried bringing it up with his wife Monica but she had gazed at him oddly. He knew she thought him insane. So there was only one thing he could do.
He entered the house via the back door, hoping not to disturb Monica. Too late.
“Hey, honey. What’s this? Halloween already? Hey what the aghhhhhhhhh!!!”
It seemed to go in slow motion. Her face shuddered violently as the dagger slashed it open. Blood flecked everywhere, on the hall walls, on Robert’s pure white linen robe, on the floor. Monica span round like a horribly contorted ballerina engaged in a scarlet blood dance, letting the precious life blood spin everywhere as she hit the wall and slowly slumped down, leaving a long red line on the bright yellow wallpaper. The old Robert would have hated this, as that wallpaper was expensive and he had to drive forty miles to get it, but the new Robert didn’t care. He crouched down, and plunged the knife into his wife repeatedly, stopping only after he gave way to sheer exhaustion. Then, after he had recovered slightly, he made his way to his son’s room.
James was sleeping peacefully in his bed. He was only four years old, and had been the apple of his fathers eyes. Now, he was a rotten apple. Robert slid a pillow over his little lad and thrust the knife through it, clenching his teeth as he did so. He kept the dagger there until he saw the pillow becoming red as the blood soaked up it. It was nearly done. But not yet.
Fire was the best cleanser. Robert knew he had saved his family, but he had decided to light fire to the house and burn them, just to make sure. He watched the flames for a while as they reached up and licked the sky, with long rollicking tongues and a healthy orange flame coupled with thick white smoke, which rolled over the nearby fields like an early morning mist.
Satisfied, Robert started to walk up the road to his parents house, clothed in his blood spattered robe, dagger in hand.
He stood on a smooth rock under the waterfall, as the cool, crisp, clear water came tumbling down in swirls, soaking him to the skin, through his clothes. His long black hair was plastered to the sides of his face, his eyes were shut and he was twirling slowly round with his arms held aloft. The water cooled him, soaked him, enveloped him, but, more importantly, purified him. He stood like this for a few minutes, before he jumped down into the plunge pool and waded slowly over to the bank, where he stripped naked, abandoning his wet clothes and drying roughly with an old towel. Then, when he was sufficiently dried off, he donned a white hooded robe and lifted up an elaborately crafted dagger, about eight inches long with a wavy blade. It had designs which looked like Celtic swirls engraved on the blade, and had a gold pommel. The black haired man lifted up a crown of mistletoe and placed it on his head, then knelt down and began a low mumbling at the foot of an oak tree, making slow deliberate passes of his body with the dagger. Seeming satisfied, he heaved himself to his feet and walked off.
Robert knew what he had to do. He had known since the operation. Ever since he had nearly died after the car accident, part of him had crossed over to the other side, and that part had seen what was wrong with his family. They were not cleansed, they worshipped fake gods. The god they worshipped in the buildings was a fraud. The real gods were to be worshipped in stone circles, and in sacred oak groves.
He had tried bringing it up with his wife Monica but she had gazed at him oddly. He knew she thought him insane. So there was only one thing he could do.
He entered the house via the back door, hoping not to disturb Monica. Too late.
“Hey, honey. What’s this? Halloween already? Hey what the aghhhhhhhhh!!!”
It seemed to go in slow motion. Her face shuddered violently as the dagger slashed it open. Blood flecked everywhere, on the hall walls, on Robert’s pure white linen robe, on the floor. Monica span round like a horribly contorted ballerina engaged in a scarlet blood dance, letting the precious life blood spin everywhere as she hit the wall and slowly slumped down, leaving a long red line on the bright yellow wallpaper. The old Robert would have hated this, as that wallpaper was expensive and he had to drive forty miles to get it, but the new Robert didn’t care. He crouched down, and plunged the knife into his wife repeatedly, stopping only after he gave way to sheer exhaustion. Then, after he had recovered slightly, he made his way to his son’s room.
James was sleeping peacefully in his bed. He was only four years old, and had been the apple of his fathers eyes. Now, he was a rotten apple. Robert slid a pillow over his little lad and thrust the knife through it, clenching his teeth as he did so. He kept the dagger there until he saw the pillow becoming red as the blood soaked up it. It was nearly done. But not yet.
Fire was the best cleanser. Robert knew he had saved his family, but he had decided to light fire to the house and burn them, just to make sure. He watched the flames for a while as they reached up and licked the sky, with long rollicking tongues and a healthy orange flame coupled with thick white smoke, which rolled over the nearby fields like an early morning mist.
Satisfied, Robert started to walk up the road to his parents house, clothed in his blood spattered robe, dagger in hand.
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Handy man wrote:
> Cheers, dude. I aim to please.
pff, well, looks like you MISSED me, then!!!
only kidding - good story
> Cheers, dude. I aim to please.
pff, well, looks like you MISSED me, then!!!
only kidding - good story
As I said more build up and suspense would have made it. I also liked the pun and the "Halloween thing"
Ineedsleep wrote that dark weather is not always necessary, I agree but I like it as it does add suspense, it is probably such a cliche writing technique to horror that now I need it. Or not.
Ineedsleep wrote that dark weather is not always necessary, I agree but I like it as it does add suspense, it is probably such a cliche writing technique to horror that now I need it. Or not.
There's not enough build up for me. It seems a little too much like "I got run over, I'm a mentalist, look at me in my shiny white robe as I kill my family". The journey to his house should take an age, as time, distance and perhaps even a little uncertainty delay the inevitable. I also think the wife should put a little more of a struggle. Humans have incredible strength when bolstered by adrenaline, and nobody is an easy kill, unless the killer is an experienced one, which the character here is not.
I also think the opening scene could have been drawn out a little more.
But otherwise entertaining, and the "what the aaaagh" thing made me chuckle, despite the fact that it flies in the face ofwhat good writing should look like.
I also think the opening scene could have been drawn out a little more.
But otherwise entertaining, and the "what the aaaagh" thing made me chuckle, despite the fact that it flies in the face ofwhat good writing should look like.
Black Glove wrote:
> That's the chief problem when writing dark/gruesome stories I find -
> it's quite easy to unintentionally slip into comedy.
>
> This line: "Hey, honey. What’s this? Halloween already? Hey what
> the aghhhhhhhhh!!!" made me laugh, although it wasn't really
> supposed to.
Actually it was. I laughed myself as I typed it. Hmmm.
> That's the chief problem when writing dark/gruesome stories I find -
> it's quite easy to unintentionally slip into comedy.
>
> This line: "Hey, honey. What’s this? Halloween already? Hey what
> the aghhhhhhhhh!!!" made me laugh, although it wasn't really
> supposed to.
Actually it was. I laughed myself as I typed it. Hmmm.
Ineedsleep wrote:
> I thought it was a nice little tale but had to laugh a few times
> during paragraph three as there were several comical asides in it.
That's the chief problem when writing dark/gruesome stories I find - it's quite easy to unintentionally slip into comedy.
This line: "Hey, honey. What’s this? Halloween already? Hey what the aghhhhhhhhh!!!" made me laugh, although it wasn't really supposed to.
But on the whole I thought it was very good. I liked the "occult" intro.
> I thought it was a nice little tale but had to laugh a few times
> during paragraph three as there were several comical asides in it.
That's the chief problem when writing dark/gruesome stories I find - it's quite easy to unintentionally slip into comedy.
This line: "Hey, honey. What’s this? Halloween already? Hey what the aghhhhhhhhh!!!" made me laugh, although it wasn't really supposed to.
But on the whole I thought it was very good. I liked the "occult" intro.
Oops - sorry but I disagree with Handy man, I thought the opening paragraph was just fine as it was. You don't need dark weather to begin a horror story or thriller.
I thought it was a nice little tale but had to laugh a few times during paragraph three as there were several comical asides in it.
I thought it was a nice little tale but had to laugh a few times during paragraph three as there were several comical asides in it.
Nice, but I found it hard to believe the dude would have killed them both... I dunno, I like characters a lot, like to be able to believe in them.
Heh:D
I don't believe I missed that pun, ah well, I can laugh now.
*Cue hysteric laughter*
:)
*Cue hysteric laughter*
:)
I was talking about the pun about having a car accident and then saying he crossed the road like a pedestrian but in another context. Heh quite good.
"after the car accident, part of him had crossed over to the other side"
"after the car accident, part of him had crossed over to the other side"
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