J. Sander over at ‘Don’t Delete Me’ shared a sentence starter for his Writing Prompt Wednesday. I couldn’t resist a quick detour, since an image sprang into my head and I had to go with it. I must warn you though, this is darker than anything I’ve ever written, so I apologise in advance at its disturbing nature!
The knife he chose was his Mothers’ favourite. Ironic really, since he was going to end her life with it. He was done with the nagging, the whining, and the endless chatter about how much better her life would be without him. Christ, she was a pain in his ass. Her bitterness was like a disease; the only thing she was willing to share with him.
He would look into those hateful, pale blue eyes and watch the lights go out. Only then would he be free He doubted she would go to a better place. No, it was more likely she would bathe in hell’s eternal fire. Not that his life was any better.
The knife felt heavy in his hand, like he was channeling his hatred into it. He was surprised it didn’t burn a hole in his palm.
As he approached her room, a bead of sweat dripped off his brow and landed with a plop on the hard wooden floor. That was odd, wasn’t it? Come to think of it, all of his senses were off, or maybe on. It was dark in the hall yet he could see with a clarity he’d never experienced.
He took a huge lungful of air, wondering at the putrid odour which seared his lungs and made him think of his own despair. It was death. He was sure of it. But he hadn’t even killed her yet.
That was when he knew, he’d been here before, in the exact same spot. And what came next, was the stuff of his nightmares.
On cue his mother’s door flew open. Her eye sockets were caverns of blood and scar tissue and yet she looked directly into his soul. Her mouth was open, as if in a silent scream and her nostrils flared when she sensed him.
“My boy,” she said, in a singsong voice that peeled the flesh from his bones. “It’s time to play.”
Thanks for reading