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Sweet tooth'ish Fanfic (Read 1723 times)
Michael Jackson's Nose

That's my hammer...

Posts: 438
The NY welfare office.
Gender: male
Sweet tooth'ish Fanfic
01/02/13 at 21:35:46
Got bored and wrote this down on my phone one day for my own amusement. I was satisfied with the outcome but it needed lots of editing.

Thanks to my friend Mr.Fulsy, he revised it real nice so I have to give him credit for the much better outcome.

She ran, totally exausted. Blood stained her clothes, her blood. Frantically, she made a dash down a dark alley. It was a risky move, but it was the best choice she could make, and miles ahead of her previous move. Busting through the first door she could reach, she arrived at the bottom stairwell of a condemned apartment building. Despite the path ahead being new and unfamiliar, she knew exactly where to go.

Meanwhile, the shadow of the man after her materialized in the alley. He was far behind, but also far from discouraged. He could still smell her fear.

With no time wasted, she quickly darted up flights and flights of endless stairs. She was so tired, so afraid, and he likes it. There was some weak hope that the man had lost her, that she'd finally be able to rest her sore legs and abused nerves. It was short lived, as the angry thud of the door she ran through pierced the foul air.

It was him.

She ran faster now, hoping to get to the roof. She was certain that she was about to choose her fate, and chose suicide over whatever he was ready to do. Somewhere just shy of the last landing, her high heel, ruined from the chase, broke off. Her ankle painfully buckled out, and she fell to the rotten floor. She whimpers, holding her stomach. She's pregnant.

His foot steps are getting uncomfortably close now, but she can't move. One part of her mind battles to move her, but the other keeps her stuck frozen.

She changes her mind, she wants to live.

Mustering all her remaining energy, she somehow picks herself back up, and runs down a corridor, slamming into the first door. A room reeking of urine and methamphetamine, greets her. She wobbles into a gross kitchen, where an old raggedy man cooking meth on a stained, rusty stove. The smell is horrid, and makes her gag. She is so afraid. The scene is so surreal that words escape her. The man breaks the silence, asking if she is hurt. He understands the situation, and is willing to help. The man brings her over to a wall, and moves a piece of dry wall. This reveals a hiding place he used during police raids. As she hid herself, the man cautiously eased his way toward the front door. The old man was s generous soul, but part of her mind told her she still wasn't safe.

Suddenly, the front door flew open with one blow. She yelps but holds her mouth.

The figure makes his way down the hall when another squatter ran at him with a metal baseball bat. He swung, but the man was one step ahead. He stops the bat mere inches away from his head, and rips it from the squatter's hand. The motion was so swift, so strong. The bum only had time to realize his mistake as the intruder swung back at him. A nauseating CRACK, mixed in with the ping of aluminum echoed through the apartments. She could only stare in shock as the wall was painted with dark blood and brain matter.

  The bum's corpse collapsed into a pool of his own blood, followed by the dented bat, discarded by the intruder. He comes into the kitchen, each step being the only sound to be heard. Facing the old man at the stove, he speaks. "Where is she," he grunts. She is watching from a small hole in the wall, she's crying now, silently crying. The old man doesn't speak, he only prays as he knows this is it. Classifying the terrified man as useless, the figure grabbed a butcher knife, and stabbed him. With a stone-cold expression on his face, he twisted the blade pulling it across the frail man's stomach. The man's entrails spill onto the floor as the man coughed up blood and finally collapsed.

She knews she was next.

He turns his head facing the wall she's hiding behind. He walks up to it. He knows she's in there, he can sense it. She backs up as far as she can, making the best of the three inches of space.

There's silence.

Just when she was beginning to wonder why the man hadn't killed here faster, she saw his eye through the hole.

Those evil, red, blood-shot eyes.

  He smashes his hand through the drywall, and grabs her neck, pulling her out and throwing her across the room. She was hysterical now, laying on the cold ground. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" she screamed. Fascinated by her fear, he steps toward her, watching her suffer, holding her stomach. He sees that she's pregnant, he gives off an evil grin under his old partially-melted clown mask. His face was obscured, but she knew he was smiling.

She closed her eyes and winced back. Nothing happened. She opened one eye.

He was nowhere to be found.
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