I was alone, in my own house on a hill of the land of sorrowsville, my town. My life is perfect, until it was this momet, a moment of uddermost sorrow, one that will have killed me by the time you are reading this in your own house. The man was so vile, so evil, so DEATHLY
he was the most scary of them all.
it all started a year ago, when i was going to school, my backback weighting on my spinal cord, making me depressed into the ground, feeling like i was not reasonable. i saw a tree out of the corner of my eyes, that wasent quite write. it wasent a tree, it was a man, no, a woman. it was the murdermancer from the news that had murdered all of those people that were innocent like women children and dogs. then she made them into skulls.
DEAD SKULLS.
i was going to the graveyard of sorrowsville that was often philosiphied as deadly, for the multiple murders that had seemed to appear in its many caticombs, murders that gave me sin feelings. i chuckled at the notions of pain and continued on my way to the tomb of my stepdaughter, one which was nearly desecrated by the many faces of necrosis that had surrounded her sence her painful car death.
It was very painful when it happened, for me at least. i was just a boy, my perfect life had been fragmented it by the painful embrace of my friends death, deadly as it was far away. As i trickled out of the graveyard again, i saw her agian. the murdermancer. it was all her fault! it was her, the one who killed my stepdaughter, the one who had murdered my sanity when i was just a teenage girl! it was so painful, but i had to get to work, my boss would eat my asshole if i was late again!
the rest of the day was uneventful. i went to school, and flirted with a cute girl. but the girl had something... odd about her. i discouraged the feeling and went about with my day, feeling more and more scarred all the way. when i finnaly got home at 6:30, it was time to go eat, and i made myself a hotpocket and some cheesesticks, when i reveled in their unhealthy deliciousness. they were so good that i nearly couldnt see the girl in my window. it was the one that had killed my sister, the murdermaster! i couldnt go to sleep, so i just rolled on my bed, worrying in the wallows as she looked into the room i had just been in! it was the worst night of my shitty life, one which i had been hating since i was 20 years old.
2/2/2014
i went back to my stepdaughter's grave today. it was just as fearful as before, and seemed to be lacking in its blasphemous glory. i think it was nearly mythical, the way she was dying. then she was there again, watching.
praying on me. stalking my every thought, movement, and pain.
i would call the police, but she threatened to murder my stepdaughter, and turn her into a skull, but she hasent done that yet, so i assumed she was just faking it out for me to not call them.
even still, the grave was gone, never having been there. am i even here, or is it just another illiumination of the thoughts, one which had been going on for years on end?
I choose yes.
As i grabbed my colt 1911 pistol, with an extended 20 round magazine, laser sight, and flashlight with a better tuned mechanism and gold plating, i felt that this might be the wrong decision, one which would scar me for all eternity, one which had been painfully obvious ever since she started to hurt me. my stepdaughter would pay for killing the murdermancer! The murdermancer would pay for killing my stepdaughter!
i went to the semitary, the one i had been to before. or had i? its not even clear anymore, as the pain has overwhelmed me to the point of driving me to insanity. it was going to kill me eventually, and i wanted to shoot first, to kill it with me. i had been looking cool, in my grunge era ripped jeans and leather jacket from the move drive. it was time to kill. the murdermancer was there. waiting. for me. i aimed and fired, and she died, but it seemed that she was still in the spirit for life, and the skulls raised, only to be stopped when i died.