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Thread: Psycho

  1. #1
    Senior Member Terror's Avatar

    Join Date
    Aug 2008


    Got way more, tell me what you think. Tear it apart!


    “Mommy!” yelled a little boy, running across a street to the front door of his home. Several boys his age laughed at him as he ran. He was holding his right arm, a small drop of blood oozed between his fingers. The little boy was wincing in pain, trying his hardest not to cry so he didn’t encourage the laughter. He ran through his front door, leaving it open in his painful haste.

    “What is it, Honey?” his mother asked as she turned around from doing the dishes. She had no face, only a blur of a faded memory.

    The little boy screamed in fear, the empty face of his mother morphed into the face of his father, the body followed suit.

    “Suck it up!” hollered the new figure of his father said as he walked towards the little boy. “What did I tell you about leaving the front door open?” His father quickly unbuckled his belt and began beating his son.

    “Mommy!” shrieked the little boy, covering his face with his hands, cowering from the harsh blows.

    “Don’t be a coward!” his father yelled, his words in unison with the whipping of the belt.

    All the boys from his school appeared around him, and they were all chanting. “Roderick is a coward! Roderick is a coward!” They all laughed at him as he was being whipped.

    “Mommy!” Roderick yelled at the top of his lungs. The beatings and chanting suddenly stopped. When Roderick opened his eyes, he was in an emergency room. His mother was lying in a bed. He and his mother were alone.

    His mother opened her eyes. “I love you Roderick,” she said weakly. Her eyes fluttered shut.

    Roderick tried to run to his mother, but he couldn’t move his legs. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words left his mouth. He began to cry as he dropped to his knees. The air in the room rushed around him. He opened his eyes, looking into the trees of a forest. The little boy got up and began running into the woods, never once looking back.

    Everything faded to black.

    “Roderick Neil Shatterather is currently still at large. He is responsible for the serial killings of more than nine people. He is considered highly…” The newscaster was silenced with the press of a button.

    Roderick was sweating profusely, his face beaded with condensation. He let out a small groan as he leaned up from his bed. His bed’s springs creaked under his movement. He dropped the remote he had used to shut off his television. It clattered to the ground next to a newspaper clipping.

    “Roderick Neil Shatterather, Most Dangerous Man in North Carolina,” read the title.

    He threw the wet blankets that were covering him to the side, and stood up from his bed, his knees cracking as he rose. A fly buzzed past his head, landing in his matted brown hair. He shook his head, making the insect fly away, but also reminding him of the malicious odor hanging in the air. His nose cringed as he inhaled. He scratched his head, and walked to his bedroom door. Roderick stepped over a mousetrap that held the rotting corpse of a dead mouse. Flies buzzed everywhere, as he walked out of his door. The carpet under his feet crunched with every step.

    He stepped into his kitchen and walked to his sink, which held a pile of moldy, unwashed dishes, an antique record player, and a pile of records. “Mother,” he spoke aloud, reaching for the pile of records. “What will it be today?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow and looking up. “Mozart’s Piano Concerto Number 9? Sounds fantastic,” He sifted through the stack of records, pulling out a cardboard case. Roderick took out the record, placed in on the record player, and set the needle. The sound of Mozart filled the musky air. He began to hum as his mind faded.

    “Time for breakfast!” chirped Roderick’s mother.

    A little boy ran down the stairs of his house, running face first into the smell of bacon. He sat down at the dining table, which was laden in a spring themed table cloth. His mother pulled the pan of bubbling bacon off of the stove and brought it over to the little boy.

    “Did you finish your homework for school, Roderick?” she asked, placing a few strips of bacon onto Roderick’s plate.

    He looked down at the table and shook his head, the thought of his father beating him flashed in his mind. His mother sighed. “I will talk to your father about it today.” She smiled at him, “Have some bacon.”

    Roderick’s memory was cut short. The music on his record player skipped, the needle was jammed in the grooves. Roderick stood up from the chair he had wondered into. He walked over to the record player, took off the record, and let out a large breath. He smelled the air; the stench of death filled his nostrils. Roderick turned off the record player and placed the record back into its case. “I love you, Mother,” he mumbled softly as his eyes watered up.

    Roderick walked to the front door of his home, and pulled off a small brass key hanging from a hook near the door. When he walked out of his house, several rats scurried away from the door. Roderick walked through the overgrown shrubs surrounding his small home. When he emerged from the foliage, he came upon a small shed, completely enclosed in dense plant life. Hundreds of flies swarmed the shed.

    Roderick took the metal key he had taken from the hook and unlocked the door of the shed. A blast of warm, death filled air hit him in the face. The drone of hundreds of flies made the air around him vibrate. In front of Roderick lay a human corpse, completely disassembled, limb by limb.

    He walked towards the body and grabbed the sheet lying below the dead person. He wrapped up the limbs in the bloody sheet and tied a knot, completely encasing the corpse. Roderick lifted the body filled sack and hefted it out of the shed. He walked back through the bushes and to his house. Blood dripped from the sheet as he walked. He dropped the sack next to his front door, and stepped inside his house.

    Roderick stepped back into his kitchen, and walked towards the moldy sink. When he leaned over and opened the cupboard under his sink, he pulled out a bottle of lighter fluid and shook the white container to gauge the level of fluid. After he was content with the amount left in the bottle he walked back to the bleeding sack. Roderick carried the body to a small hole near the back of his home and dumped the sack into the hole.

    “Your heart was corrupt, your soul greedy. Let this be a lesson,” Roderick spoke as he poured the lighter fluid in the pit. He took out a small matchbox from his back pocket, and dropped a burning match onto the sack. A fire roared from the small hole, causing Roderick to squint his eyes and take a step back to prevent being burned. As Roderick let the inferno burn, he turned on his heels and walked back towards his home.

    This world must be purged… Roderick thought to himself.

  2. #2

    Join Date
    Apr 2008
    Sydney, Australia

    Re: Psycho

    Quite a good read. Little dark, but I enjoyed it so far.


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