Psychotic Homocide | Teen Ink

Psychotic Homocide

February 11, 2012
By cmalcolm DIAMOND, Cedar Rapids, Iowa
cmalcolm DIAMOND, Cedar Rapids, Iowa
54 articles 0 photos 18 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Who you Finna Try"


The cold dreary feeling swept across him with ferocity. He continued to make his way down an eerie desolate alleyway. The literal alleyway of life, love or death

He had found himself in a predicament in result of previous actions where he had neglected though of future outcomes of his actions. He persisted down the lurid alleyway. Checking his shoulder so frequently it almost appeared as if he was having seizures... His eyes drew him toward what looked like either a very small dumpster or very large trashcan, he was unsure what to make of it. It took him a few moments to realize that it was not his eyes that had gotten his attention. It was a faint whimper from the proximity of the dumpster looking thing...He had been startled which is what had drawn his eyes toward the noise.

He ignored the noise at first and continued down the alley..still quite muddled about where he was going, His cloudy eyes were distilled with the glow of drunkenness...He could barely walk straight..Then again suddenly. The faint cry from behind him...his head violently whipped around as if to catch the noise before it stopped...

He became frightened an lost all sense of calmness because this time he was sure of it. He knows he heard something. His eyes darted in every direction. He crouched down and made his way toward where he though the noise originated. His drunkenness nearly defeated him before he got there as he clumsily tripped over an old dilapidated cardboard pizza box. He fell and scratched his face.

He heard it again while he was still on the ground. He sprang up with intensity and almost began to cry... crying was tormenting him...He did not know what to do..He felt hopeless and was doubting the reality of the situation. Was it real? He neared the dumpster. He peered over the brim of the dumpster.

At the cold floor of the large container lay a baby. A girl. . .Crying...he was so angry! This baby had been the source of his fear? His rage? He let out in a beckoning release of anger and hatred toward the child. He screamed at it. The baby cried louder and more profound. Now, even more enraged, he picked up the baby, he was completely overwhelmed with psychotic anger at this point. He couldn't take it anymore. The baby and him were both screaming out in hope of release. . .He grabbed the baby by its neck...his fist clinched... The crying subsided...This screaming was gone. It was over. Dead silence. Nothing.

The author's comments:
A random story I wrote when I was bored one day that developed into a work that was better than I thought it would be. Very chilling.

Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.