Maybe it was just my imagination that the body lying in front of me moved, or maybe it was the light in this cold place, or maybe it was my nerves getting to me, but it sure did look as if it moved.
I reached my hand up and scratched my head, dried blood between my fingers flaking off into my hair. I was thinking. We were thinking. Thinking about the best time to act, thinking about the consequences that could result in what I’m doing and am going to do.
And he was thinking it too.
He was thinking inside my head. A voice so unfamiliar, so distant and detached from my own subconscious mind that it scared me. Actually, a lot of things scared me now, but the anticipation of what was to come overwhelmed all feelings that could have been floating around inside of me at that moment.
I reached down and grabbed the person’s hand that was
(Lullaby and good night-)
lying on the ground. The hand was cold, which wasn’t surprising because it was winter and there was snow and frost on the ground.
(Go to sleep little baby.)
I put the hand to my face and smiled. There was some odd sense of comfort and tranquility in this cold, lifeless hand.
I threw the hand to the ground with such force that it made a faint crunching noise as it hit the ground.
It twitched!
I know it did! The
(What’s wrong Chad?)
hand twitched in my hand! That can’t be! The hand was dead! The body was dead! It had been dead for at least six hours now!
(Calm down Chad . . . this little light of mine-)
No. No. It didn’t twitch. There was no way it could have. Get a hold of yourself Chad.
There
(-I’m gonna let it shine.)
was no possible way it could have moved. It was the wind. The wind. After all, it was winter.
I put the arm over my shoulder and pulled the body up from the ground. No. Not pulled the body up, tore the body up from the ground. The body’s long hair had stuck to the snow and frost, her skin had stuck to the ground and as did her clothes.
Yes it tore from the ground. That was the only possible explanation for the sound.
It was a lovely sound.
I put the body inside the trunk of the car that had been idling beside me for about fifteen minutes now.
(Good boy Chad.)
I closed the trunk and sat down behind the wheel of the car. I gripped the steering wheel with my bare hands. Icy bones on leather. I inhaled deeply. Letting the days actions sink in. Oh, how things could change so fast.
(Chad.)
I looked around my car; I thought I heard a noise. Nothing. Just the wind, just the wind. There was a strange, creepy aura surrounding me. It felt like the eyes that watch you at night in the dark, the stranger in your closet, the bones rattling outside your window, or the cold hand that reaches from up under your bed to caress your foot at night.
Suddenly,
(Right here Chad.)
a frozen snake slithered through the creases in my brain then dive- bombed into the pit of my stomach where it took a venomous bite out of my insides.
And terror possessed me then.
The events that followed that moment seem to be just a blur. I remember screaming, screaming at nothing. I remember looking into the rear-view mirror seeing the faces pointing and laughing. Seeing my own face in the mirror, my eyes wide with fear, my lips curled into a sadistic smile, my hands clawing bloody trenches into my face. I remember looking beside me and seeing the body of the girl. Frost glistening off her pale skin, hollow eyes staring at me blankly, her arm out stretched, fingers broken, pointing at me accusingly.
Terror all the while washing over me like warm water.
Finally it all stopped, time, life, even existence itself.
I looked into the mirror, my nose was bleeding. There were no signs of what had happened before to be seen.
But it didn’t matter.
We were a team. We weren’t going to let anything slow us down. Nothing at all.
I parked the car in the desolate wooded area and stepped out. Freezing wind threw shivers down my
(Our)
spine to dance across my
(Our)
body. I walked around to the back of the car and opened the trunk. It opened with a faint creek that sounded like shattering glass in the quiet darkness of the night.
I looked at the dead girl in the trunk and her hand shot up and clasped around my neck. Her fingers wrapped around my throat like tiny little snakes. She lifted up her body and stared at me with those dead, cold, hollow eyes. Her mouth was chattering like one does during hypothermia, but in this cold night it sounded like rattling bones.
I took a step back and she tightened her grip around my neck. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She started to scream strange, muffled, incoherent sounds from her throat. Her grip tightened even more and her fingers dug into my skin, through my skin, she was touching the inside of my throat, caressing my jugular with her dead fingers. She bent down and bit the top of my head ripping a chunk of hair off my scalp.
I leaned forward, closed my eyes, and put my hand on the top of the trunk of my car.
I opened my eyes again and stared at the closed trunk. My right hand was on top of it and my left was holding the key to open it. I turned the key and opened the trunk.
The girl was lying there and this time she did not move. She was dead. Just like she was supposed to be.
I bent down and lifted her up; she was heavy, dead weight. I sat her back down onto the grass, frost crunching beneath her body. Her head was tilted back so I could see the large gash on her neck caked with dried blood.
I grabbed the shovel from inside the car and began to dig. The first time that I plunged the head of the shovel into the frozen ground, a hand reached out and grabbed the wooden shaft of the shovel. I screamed in fright. It was her hand!
I looked at the girl. She was looking at me. Her free hand was outstretched toward me, her body was shaking convulsively, and she was letting out a low moan.
”Stop it!” I screamed, “Stop it!” I raised the shovel over my head and shut my eyes and
(Chad?)
slammed the shovel down onto her face. There was a loud sound of bone against metal as the shovel smashed her face in, but I can still hear moaning.
It wasn’t her moaning though.
It was me . . .
(Lullaby and goodnight-)
I turned away from the girl and continued digging her grave, tears falling from my eyes. I was able to finish the grave without any more interruptions from her which was a welcome relief.
I put the shovel down and walked over to the girl and rolled her into the hole. I was too weak to pick her up.
(-go to sleep little baby.)
There was a soft thump as she hit the bottom of her grave. I walked to the edge of the grave and looked down into it.
The girl’s head appeared to be rattling and it looked as if she were trying to unhinge her jaw. I slammed my eyes shut then slowly opened them again. She was lying on her back. Unmoving. Dead.
I picked up the shovel; it was so cold out here. I thrust the head of it into the mound of dirt beside
(Now I lay me down to sleep.)
the grave and shoveled it down onto the girl. The dirt landed on her stomach and the second it did she let out an ear piercing scream that pierced the quiet night like a sword.
I covered
(It’s okay little boy.)
my ears, “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” but her screams grew even louder.
(It’s so cold.)
”SHUT UP!” I tried to scream over her persistent yell but she surpassed me in volume and in strength.
I looked around, my eyes wide with fear. The world seemed to be spinning and closing in on me. I had to shut her up.
I thrust the
(I wish upon a shining star-)
shovel into the dirt again and flung it into the hole and onto her face.
(So cold, so hard to breathe out here.)
I took another pile of dirt and shoveled it onto her. Still she screamed! Still she looked at me with those wild, accusing eyes! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!
I dug the shovel into the dirt mound again, but her screams paralyzed me with fear. I bent down and clutched
(I can’t breathe!)
the shovel tighter. Stop screaming! Make it stop! I tried to lift the shovel. I couldn’t. Tears were streaming from my eyes. I closed them and thrust another pile of dirt into the hole.
The screaming stopped.
I opened my eyes and looked into the night sky. It was so cold. I was lying on my back. Above me I heard the soft whisper:
”Lullaby and goodnight go to sleep little baby.”
I looked around; it was so hard to breathe. I was so cold. I tried to move my arm but I could feel anything. As I was looking around a pile of dirt fell from the sky and landed beside my face. No, not from the sky.
From the edge of the top of the hole I was in.
I looked at the top. I heard a soft grinding sound in the center of my throat and a wave of cold air rushed into my throat and cooled my mouth. The air rushed in through the gaping hole in my throat. I looked up. The girl was standing there. Alive. Not a scratch on her. She thrust the shovel that she was holding into the mound of dirt beside the hole and dropped it down onto my face.
The last thing I heard before the pile of dirt smothered all of the light and sound from me was her soft lullaby.
”Go to sleep little baby . . .”
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The purpose of making the reader uncomfortable works well. While reading, I was unsure just what was happening, second guessing myself the entire time. Well thought out and constructed. All at once horror, thriller, and a hint of mystery. Very well written
I am shocked at the age of the author. This was incredible. As I read, I felt swept up into the mind of a killer, the beginning madness of a person stepping over that edge into the realm of Serial Murder, toying with his first attempt. Or the terrible accident of a friends death and a boy trying to deal with the shock of the event… Then to have it turn at the end and he is the one being buried, and the lullaby he has been hearing is her voice as she buries him….
Psychologically masterful, and a wonderful work of literature. Both chilling and creepy. The subject matter is thought provoking and stimulating, and I cannot fathom how much better a write it will be after you have lived a bit longer…. You are incredibly gifted, a strong voice, a great style, and a surreal eye that both terrorizes and tantalizes… Wonderful write. I hope there is more from you. I look forward to more…
Happy Writing.
Very effective juxtaposition of the hand twitching with the music playing in the character’s head. This gave it an effective slant which I found quite disconcerting as well as spooky. You have a good talent for upsetting the reader and creating a disturbing event to throw the reader off balance.
It all remains ambiguous for the first half, which is an effective way in which to write your piece. I loved the description of the dead hand twitching, it is indicative of a twisted teenage mind but also one that is creative with darker words and gloomier recess of the human psyche.
You should try your hand (ha ha) at crime writing. Your morbid tendencies should shine there.
Laura
Maybe it was just my imagination that the body lying in front of me moved, or maybe it was the light in this cold place, or maybe it was my nerves getting to me, but it sure did look as if it moved.
I reached my hand up and scratched my head, dried blood between my fingers flaking off into my hair. I was thinking. We were thinking. Thinking about the best time to act, thinking about the consequences that could result in what I’m doing and am going to do.
And he was thinking it too.
He was thinking inside my head. A voice so unfamiliar, so distant and detached from my own subconscious mind that it scared me. Actually, a lot of things scared me now, but the anticipation of what was to come overwhelmed all feelings that could have been floating around inside of me at that moment.
I reached down and grabbed the person’s hand that was
(Lullaby and good night-)
lying on the ground. The hand was cold, which wasn’t surprising because it was winter and there was snow and frost on the ground.
(Go to sleep little baby.)
I put the hand to my face and smiled. There was some odd sense of comfort and tranquility in this cold, lifeless hand.
I threw the hand to the ground with such force that it made a faint crunching noise as it hit the ground.
It twitched!
I know it did! The
(What’s wrong Chad?)
hand twitched in my hand! That can’t be! The hand was dead! The body was dead! It had been dead for at least six hours now!
(Calm down Chad . . . this little light of mine-)
No. No. It didn’t twitch. There was no way it could have. Get a hold of yourself Chad.
There
(-I’m gonna let it shine.)
was no possible way it could have moved. It was the wind. The wind. After all, it was winter.
I put the arm over my shoulder and pulled the body up from the ground. No. Not pulled the body up, tore the body up from the ground. The body’s long hair had stuck to the snow and frost, her skin had stuck to the ground and as did her clothes.
Yes it tore from the ground. That was the only possible explanation for the sound.
It was a lovely sound.
I put the body inside the trunk of the car that had been idling beside me for about fifteen minutes now.
(Good boy Chad.)
I closed the trunk and sat down behind the wheel of the car. I gripped the steering wheel with my bare hands. Icy bones on leather. I inhaled deeply. Letting the days actions sink in. Oh, how things could change so fast.
(Chad.)
I looked around my car; I thought I heard a noise. Nothing. Just the wind, just the wind. There was a strange, creepy aura surrounding me. It felt like the eyes that watch you at night in the dark, the stranger in your closet, the bones rattling outside your window, or the cold hand that reaches from up under your bed to caress your foot at night.
Suddenly,
(Right here Chad.)
a frozen snake slithered through the creases in my brain then dive- bombed into the pit of my stomach where it took a venomous bite out of my insides.
I’M TYPING THIS IN CAPS BECAUSE THIS IS HOW I CRITIQUE. YOU NEED TO REREAD YOUR PIECE, YOU HAVE BEEN REDUNDANT THROUGHOUT. YOU SAID COLD FROST SNOW WINTER A MILLION TIMES. YOU DON’T HAVE TO REPEAT IT WE ALREADY KNOW THAT YOUR STANDING IN THE COLD. YOU DON’T NEED TO REMIND US.
Though I think its interesting to look at, I’m not sure I really understand how you chose to space out all of the paragraps in this piece. I know that my personal wirting style is to punch out a lot of fragments, so I’m really not one to preach, but the way you’ve done it feels a bit choppy and unpolished. Like I’m not really sure how it’s supossed to sound. I love the tone of the piece, though, particularly in the beginning few sentances.
You’ve done some good things here, but I’m going to focus on the fixables. 1). Your opening line needs work. This is the most important and most difficult line, but you have some things to work with. I think it would look better as follows: “Maybe the body did move. Maybe it was the light in this place. Either way I saw something.”
2). Don’t “grab the person’s hand” rather “grab the cold, stiff fingers”
3). “Oh, how things could change so fast.” could read as “Things changed quickly.”
4). The snake in the brain image didn’t work very well, maybe focus on the feeling growing in his stomach.
These are just a few thoughts I had, best of luck.
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