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The Feeling Afterwards

Author's note: Emotion is something some people (like me) don't like to deal with. But sometimes, you need to in...  Show full author's note »
Author's note: Emotion is something some people (like me) don't like to deal with. But sometimes, you need to in order to really get fulfillment, to really understand the people around you... even if its not easy. If not, you'll take a turn for the worse. Everyone needs to express themselves somehow.  « Hide author's note
Chapters:   1 2 3 4 5 6 ... 9 Next »

One

My hands were shaking, but the night wasn’t that cold. Was it just rage, or the fear of what I was about to do? The rage seemed to fit with me better, so I went with that. I stared down into my victims’ eyes. She had pretty eyes, blue with specks of hazel. I thought it unfortunate that those eyes- now full with life and fear, would soon be cold and lifeless. I could feel the smooth wood handle of the knife in my hand, and I knew the blade was sharp enough to cut silk cloth. I held the knife in front of my victim’s throat, and I could feel spit on my hand that was covering her mouth. It filled me with joy to realise this child’s fear. The fear, and the want…the need for her parents. The parents she wanted so badly, and yet they would never come. They would never say, “I love you” or “its okay” ever again. I should know. Nothing is ever okay. And with that final thought, my blade cut this child’s throat, stealing her last breath. I watched with amusement as the blood leaked down the side of her pale neck, and as all life and warmth left her eyes. Her neck stiffened, and I knew she was dead. My job was almost complete. I reached over and dragged a mannequin over to the child’s corpse, and I was done, a family would be broken, for their child was dead. I stared at my handy-work, and I felt pleasure begin to fill me up inside- but dread did first. In the distance I could hear the pattering of footsteps against the moist grass. I grabbed my knife with my gloved hand and ran across the green field.
Someone was coming.

We had a long way to walk. Jenny was gripping my hand tightly, and I could feel the sweat build up on my back. The field between the school and the front gate was ridiculously long, but once you got to the other side it wasn’t too far to walk home. The field was a nice green colour, but in the dark you could hardly tell. The only light was from a few windows in the school, and some streetlights on the street outside the gate. It was only 7:30 in the evening, but it was still pretty dark. So dark, that you could hardly make out the playground that sat in the centre of the field. I began to realise that my nine-year-old daughter, Jenny, was pulling me towards it.
“Honey, not now. It’s getting late, and you must be hungry.”
Jenny stopped suddenly and glared up at me with her big, green cat-like eyes.
“You are right Tessie, I am hungry. Jimmy stole my lunch today. But I still want to play on the playground.” Jenny had never called me mum or mommy-she’d always called me Tessie, although my name is really Tess.
I kneeled down so my face was the same level as hers. I’d suddenly remembered something. Something important.
“ Jenny, do you know what day it is?”
Jenny gave me a vexing look, but it cleared when she finally spoke. “Is today the day daddy died?”
I shook my head, feeling ashamed that she would think that. “ No sweetie, today is a happy day.”
“ Is today my birthday?” Jenny asked very determined,” because if it is then we should go to the playground.”
I smiled, grateful that she had realised the day. My late husband wasn‘t one to celebrate birthdays, strange man that he was. Jenny often forgot her birthday, as she saw no reason to truly celebrate. Something I‘d tried to teach her since her father died. “Of course! I’ll race you to the swings.”
Jenny and I began to race to the swing set. It was a bit rusty since the school couldn’t afford a new one. The playground wasn’t that large in general, only with a set of monkey bars with the paint peeling, a blue metal slide with dents, and a pair of rusted red swings, which were moving back and forth in opposite time, although there was no wind. I began to have a hunch that someone may have been here, but I pushed the thought back when I remembered it was just a junk set. A junk set that Jenny loved to play on. I purposely ran slower than Jenny, just so she could have the pride in beating me to the swings. I was about fifty steps away, when Jenny suddenly tripped over a mound in the ground and she fell with a thud. I quicken my pace so I could be assured Jenny was all right.
Even with me running fast, Jenny was already standing and staring at what she’d tripped over by the time I got there. I did a quick oversee to assure that Jenny’s hands and knees weren’t scratched up. When I realised she was fine; I bent down to look at large mass on the ground. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
What we were staring into wasn’t just a bump in the ground. It was a person. More than that, it was a dead person. A dead girl, who happened to also be my little girl’s best friend.
It was Jesse Timbers on the playground floor. I couldn’t bear Jenny to see this, so I began to move my hand over to cover her eyes. She continued staring however, and pushed me away when ever my hand got close. I eventually gave up and began to examine the corpse with my eyes. Her face was pale and thin, and her neck had a nasty gash, with some blood still gushing out of it. I began to lower myself in to a sitting position, but with I sudden jolt, I stood up again. There was something located where I had been just about to sit down.
“Not another body, not another body.” I silently prayed to myself.
Thankfully, it wasn’t, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant either.
It was a mannequin. A mannequin that was an exact replica of Jesse. They had the same pretty blue eyes, the same thick blonde hair, and the same little scar on their left cheek. I was astonished that someone would put this much effort into making the murder of Jesse even more gruesome, when I noticed a small difference between the two Jesses.
Mannequin Jesse had blue lips and blue tinted skin, but no gash on her neck. Dead Jesse just had the gash. Before I contemplated this any further however, Jenny coughed slightly.
I surveyed her and saw that her face was blank and emotionless, and her green eyes looked more cat-like than ever. She didn’t look like my Jenny at all.
“Well,” Jenny began her voice very monotone. “You promised she’d come back for my birthday.”
Chapters:   1 2 3 4 5 6 ... 9 Next »


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