Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Killer Instincts.

Sometime's I wish I was dead.

In this horrific situation I have somehow stumbled into, it would be a godsend to know that I wouldn't have to worry about my heartbeat pounding too loudly that my precarious hiding place would be given away.

Long had I abandoned the valley behind my house. Now I had stolen myself away into the dilapidated old park that has long since been taken over by trees and weeds. 

I admit I live in a very decrepit neighborhood. If something isn't falling apart it's being consumed by the vegetation.

"Come out little puppet wherever you are... hiding is only making my blade hungrier..."

My eyes follow the voice directly to the hooded freak slowly wading his way through the knee length grass.

Getting closer and closer to me.

"Wishing you'd listened to me now eh?" I hear Marionette whisper next to me, his eyes fixated upon the freak slowly approaching.

"Between either choosing a demented game of hide and seek or slowly going insane from this maniac's constant rambling, I'd have still chosen this." I think and he smirks.

"Most likely if you had stayed put he would have attacked you within your room. And if he had you'd most assuredly have been fucked."

I roll my eyes sarcastically.

"Like bringing a stick to a knife fight." I reply a tad matter-of-factly.


The attacker slowly makes his way passed me.

"WHaT ArE YOU DOinG???" 

I twitch. Each word that Dummy growled shot through me like a silver bullet laced with morphine. 

Of all the times for him to appear...

"We are TRYING not to get killed here." Marionette replies coldly and Dummy casts him a stare that could not even describe the depth of rage it withheld.

"BEgone MArioNeTTe." He hisses and thus Marionette was gone.

He looks to me.

"WhY aRe You hidINg?" His words echo like hollowpoints within my head.

"Like Marionette said, trying not to be killed. Because in case you didn't know, I'm allergic to things cutting me open." I answer, trying my damnedest not to show my fear for him.

"WeLl Have YoU evEn ThOUght AbOUt KilLinG The FUckEr?" He queries and I look away.

I had.

His face splits open with that malice laden smile.

"He'Ll JuSt keeP coMing BACk If You Don'T..." He whispers into my ear.

I violently shake my head.

"I... can't..."

He leans in closer, "WheN hE FiniShes YOU, WhaT MakeS YOU thinK He Won'T gO AftEr You'Re LoVed onEs?"

My breath quickens, the freezing air stabbing into my throat and lungs like a million broken needles.

"WhAt AbOuT YOu're DEarESt JEssIca?" Dummy teases threateningly...

I look up at him with glass eyes.

"I'm not a killer."

He looks down at me like a father to his son.

"I cAN ChanGe ThaT."


  1. I can change that.

    Of fucking course you can. Agh. Fucking puppets.

  2. what love, for father to a son? yes.