Hi, I'm Flandre. Welcome to my world.
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I was thoroughly inspired by The Monstrumologist by Rick Yancey for this story :) It's a freaking amazing book, giving chills and laughs at the same time... wonder how it did. Anyway go and read it, it's awesome.
He sat in the darkest corner of the cell, his face hidden in the shadows. A purplish tongue slithered restlessly over his gruesome yellowish teeth. Suddenly, he gasped as wave after wave of spasms overtook him. His bloodied, scarred face contorted in pain and agony. Soon, they stopped, leaving him panting and sweating furiously, and he looked at this hand which was tainted forever with the blood of another. And, like every other drug user, he wished with his entire soul and being, that he had never succumbed to its terrifying temptations. But he also knew, like them, that all he could do now was regret…
He stood awkwardly, rooted to the spot, his knees trembling. He looked up from the injection in his best friend’s outstretched palm. “Go on,” his best friend said, smiling. He reached out for the needle hesitantly, and his hand hovered over his friend’s palm. Then he winced and took his hand back. “I..I can’t”, he said. But in his heart, the temptation was overwhelming. ‘What if it isn’t as bad as they say? What if they are just exaggerating? What if they just want to scare us teenagers?’ So many ‘what ifs’. His friends were not helping either. “Chicken!” “Sissy!” “I knew he could never do it, that lousy wimp!” they taunted him. He was just about to muster up enough courage to say “no”, before his best friend said, “let’s leave this lousy sissy,” he smirked and shook his head, “ who doesn’t even know what he’s missing.”
That got him.
“Give me that,” he said, snatched up the needle, and injected himself before he changed his mind. That one jab sealed his fate forever.
He could not see. He could not breathe. He could not hear. He could not move. He was starstruck. He could only stand in pure bliss and relish the moment. He never knew he could be so alive. He could not bear to let it go. He would not let it go. He would never let it go. When the feeling began to ebb, he cried out. His best friend, goal achieved, whispered into his trembling ear.
Back in the cell, he shuddered with that memory. Uncontrollably, he started to grind his teeth. The prison echoed with the bone-chilling sound of his gnashing teeth. Crack…crack … the jaws went furiously… grind… grind… the crunching and crushing of teeth on teeth went on and on… grind…grind…grind…
“ Please Zed, I really, really need the money! I’ll die without it! You know it!” he begged and pleaded with everything he had. He would have willing gave up his soul then. Zed resisted his tears at the sight of his cousin. He was smart, scored all the A’s, and was an amazing athlete. The sight of him again, after he ran away from home for years, and then returning in this sorry plight really disturbed Zed. “Sorry, but I can’t. Not for something like drugs,” Zed said finally and looked away.
Pure anger surged through him. It raged and raced through him like wildfire. Soon, every fibre of him was engulfed with fury, directed onto Zed. He saw a knife in the fruit bowl. Unthinking, he grabbed it and plunged it into the back of his cousin. Zed’s legs jerked. His head snapped back. His eyes rolled in his head, and blood erupted forth from his open mouth, cascading down the front of his shirt. Then the knife emerged out the front of Zed’s stomach, ripping through the blood-soaked shirt, crimson blood and small bits of shredded stomach clinging to it.
His cousin was dead before he hit the ground.
And he just killed him.
He only took one look at his victim before stumbling into his cousin’s room, stuffing whatever valuables and cash he could find into his pockets. His breath came in short gasps and his hands were shaking violently as he fumbled with the drawers. He took one last look at his dead cousin before exiting the house, disappearing into the dark night.
In the prison, he felt the bile rise in his stomach, and he vomited onto the floor, his stomach heaving and heaving. Then, he heard the click of a key turning in the lock. He looked up, his mouth still full of the repulsive vomit, at the prison guard. “It’s time,” the guard said and he knew, that his time had finally come.
He, was me.
I had murdered a person and stained my hands with his blood. But the real murderer, was drugs. It took everything from me. But you have a choice. Don’t choose them.
Yuan Chang | Valerene | Melissa 3:22 AM
Okay so this is one of my better essays I wrote that I like. I was slightly inspired by 'The Outsiders' by S.E. Hinton to write the story and the names are from 'Magyk' by Angie Sage. Enjoy ;)
© Flandre 2011
Any resemblance to any person whether living or dead is purely coincidential
It all started last week. Rhodri and I were happily chatting about the CCA we just joined-Hockey.
“…and the ball shot between his legs and I got the first point!”
“Yeah,” he nodded excitedly, “and…”
We were one of the last few students in the school as we had helped the coach put all the balls and hockey sticks away.
As we walked through a deserted corridor, I was suddenly shoved violently on the back and fell face first onto the floor.
“Oi!” Rhodri shouted as he was pushed too. Angrily, I looked around to see who the hooligans were, and the string of angry words I was about to shout died on my lips.
It was Simon and Daniel, the two most notorious bullies in the school. Infamous for beating up students and teachers alike, breaking bones and teeth with muscles of steel, and getting expelled so many times that I had lost count.
I looked at Rhodri, his face was pale and beads of sweat were starting to form on his neck. He looked at me too, wide-eyed. I knew I was not looking any better than him.
“Aren’t you s…supposed to b…be expelled?” I squeaked, my teeth chattering.
They looked at each other and laughed. “Yeah, but we’re back, and we’re going to throw a welcome party,” Simon sneered, and the two of them started cracking their knuckles.
I could picture myself, getting beaten to death, lying in a pool of blood, my bones all broken and splintered…
“Go,” a shaky whisper broke my reverie.
“Huh?” I asked, puzzled, then it dawned on me. He could not possibly be thinking…
“Go!” Rhodri suddenly cried, jumped to his feet, and hurled his bag towards the bullies. I just sat there rooted to the spot. A look of disbelief crossed the two bullies’ faces. Nobody, Nobody, was ever stupid enough to try and fight them.
Rhodri sighed in frustration and dragged me to my feet. Then he sighed again and pushed me away. “Run,” he said and smiled sadly. My senses clicked into place and I started to run like the devil was after me. It was the look on his face. The look of sad resignation to his fate.
Behind me, the last words I heard were Rhodri’s. “I don’t care if I can’t win,” he said, “but I’m still gonna fight you…” before all the sounds were lost to the wind whistling past me.
I had no idea where I was running to but I kept on running until a drop of water fell onto my head, and another, and another… I patted the spot and looked at the water. It was red, crimson red, dark red… I stopped abruptly, Bloody red. The first thing I saw was the bag of hockey sticks. I fumbled with the zip and ripped the bag open. I grabbed a hockey stick and ran upstairs, back to the not so deserted corridor. Panic flooded my mind as I ran back.
Simon and Daniel were too busy punching and kicking Rhodri, shouting vulgarities and laughing to notice me creeping up from behind them. My heart was palpitating wildly and I saw that I had clenched the stick so hard that my knuckles had turned white.
Step by step, I edged towards the bullies and with a cry, I swung the stick as hard as I could and knocked Simon on the neck. The bullies suddenly stopped what they were doing. Daniel turned around and looked at me fiercely.
Time seemed to stop then.
Then suddenly, Simon collapsed to the ground in a crumpled heap. Daniel looked at him, then at me. And the most unexpected thing happened. He ran off.
And time resumed. I looked at Rhodri. He looked bad. Very bad. He was sprawled on the floor, arm twisted at an awkward angle and was covered in cuts, scratches, bruises and most of all, blood was everywhere. However, he was still breathing, it was shallow, but he was still breathing.
I knelt next to him and reassured him that everything was going to be okay, taking out my hand phone with my clammy hands and dialing 995…
Rhodri was sent to the hospital and is still recovering at home, and after being questioned by the police, I could go home too. Simon and Daniel however, were sent to a boys’ home.
From that day onwards, Rhodri and I became even better friends and I knew that I could count on him, and I knew that he could count on me too.
Yuan Chang | Valerene | Melissa 2:02 AM