Yes. It's a story. Don't kill me. Warning, it's more of a horror. Less graphic and imagey than my other ones. ----- I call it Karma's Watch. o3o ----- ------ Tick. Tock. The clock chimes midnight. The soft tapping of your heels are in sync with the chiming, and the ringing of the bells haze my mind as I set my eyes on you. You hold that wine glass and drink from it leisurely, laughing with your friends while you slur your words in your intoxicated state. My grip on the knife tightens and the edge of my lips tighten, forming a lopsided smile. Your legs are corssed and your eyes are shut, the glass suddenly falling on the floor. It breaks into a million pieces, the melody of shattered glass standing out from the chiming of the clock. Tick. Tock. Time is running out. You stand up from your crowd of friends and walk into the bathroom, nauseaus and sick from the drink. You look inside the mirror and see me, the smile tugging on my lips as I snarl at you viciously, making you arch your back in fear. I mimic you; mock you really. The fear that's being displayed is amusing, like watching a child tear cry when his candy's being taken away from him. Only this time, it's something big. The venom dripping from my teeth drops into the sink, like the little drops of water that's falling from the faucet. Your shaky hands turn it off and you turn your heels, your back facing me. You run outside, closing the door, and I only look at you inside the mirror. You're back on the couch, being teased and taunted by your fellow peers. You blush and retort, crimson tainting your cheeks. Ah, my favorite shade of red. It resembles a lot of things... Mainly blood. You aren't drinking alcohol anymore, your trembling hands are attached and your fingers are entwined as you glance up at your fellow classmate, who's passed out on the floor. Your typical reaction was to laugh and write something indisciminant on his face, but this time, you only cower in fear. That's right. You see him, drowning in his own blood. You scream, while your friends only laugh at him, pointing fingers and falling back, high from the laughter. Only you can see him dead. Yes, I killed him. Your lips purse and you excuse yourself, running to the backyard to make a call. Your father, who's probably drunk and passed out? Or maybe your mom, who's at another one of her affairs. You frantically dial a number and I'm taking a guess that it's your boyfriend, which I assume is in his bedroom, with another woman. Your eyes droop from disappointment and you bite your bottom lip, drawing a bit of blood. You flinch from the pain whilst I lick my lips, taking in the aroma of blood. I'm high from all the fear you're showing off. It's a drug. It's an addiction. An obsession. Revealing myself, stepping out of the shadows, I greet you with hands that wrap around your neck, crushing your windpipe as the phone drops onto the ground, your boyfriend's mumbled voice calling out. You can hear a feminine voice calling out from the background, and you glance at the device, hiccuping. Tick. Tock. The time has come. I grab the knife from my pocket and spin it, observing the fine blade. I'm imagining what it'll look like once it's in your eye, or maybe your abdomen. Your grip on my arms tighten and I only smirk, as I look at your weak pathetic state. Cliché. Torture, isn't it? Your boyfriend cussing, the female in the background purring, your nails digging in my skin deeply. How does it feel, betrayal? It's a taste of your own medicine. You drop on the floor and specs of blood fall on my face, as red liquid pools out from your mouth, staining your fancy lace dress you wore to the party today. Of course, Karma has its own way of tormenting someone. How about I mess up your pretty little face? You're dead already, but revenge is such a fun game. I can't help but play. The knife that's now in your face draws blood, and the socket that once held your eye is now empty. I kick your body once more time before leaving, glancing behind my shoulder and smiling as your dead body decays on the blood stained grass. --- Lololololololol can't believe you're still reading it. Grotesque, no? Thaks Qin. Inspiration for my very very very wrong mind.
Eugh. =_= It's written in the author's POV about a serial killer who's playing the role of Karma, whose victim is an "innocent" young woman who went to aparty and is going slightly insane. All because the killer is near. :3 In the end, she dies, grusome death, not as graphic as my previous works, the end. Now read it.
crossed* Very good read. Much better than the stupid novel we're reading in my English class. You have some talent there girl!
Thank you! :0 I'm planning on writing an album on these kind of er... theme... Grotesque and bloody... o3o
Wow I would think that something like this would come from a published author.....not a Chloe from pimd hahaha....