I had to kill mummy today. In the movies, there’s always loads of blood and I guess I was disappointed that she didn’t bleed much. Even after I pulled the knife out, there was only a dribble rolling down her cheek.

I wish I had a gun. A gun would have been easier. I once saw a head explode: it went kaBOOM like a tomato. But we don’t have any guns. And anyway, guns are loud. They attract attention and like daddy says, we have to be quiet or the neighbours will hear.

Daddy will be coming back soon. He’ll be really proud of me for killing mummy. He’ll be a bit sad but I know he’ll say I’ve been a good boy and give me some chocolate. Just before he went, he said if I was good and looked after mummy, he’d bring back some chocolate with nuts. He gave me a big hug and a kiss and twirled me around like an aeroplane.

Daddy won’t be long now. He’s often away for days and days on business trips. I love it when he comes back and he pretends he forgot to get me anything and I look all sad and then he says “Wait, now that I think about it…” and digs deep in the bottom of his suitcase and shows me my presents. I love my presents: sometimes they have strange writing I don’t understand. I wonder what daddy will get me when he comes home.

It is dark outside. Last week the lights stopped working but it was okay because mummy said that we shouldn’t use them anymore anyway. Mummy and daddy think I’m still a baby because they said I have to crawl around on all fours, especially near the windows.

“It’s a game we’re playing with the neighbours,” mummy said. “We have to close the curtains so they can’t see us and we can’t see them.”

“Even during the day?” I ask. I don’t understand because mummy loves opening the curtains in the morning.

“Yes, sweetheart,” she says. “Even during the day.”

“But what about school?” I say. “I’m starting at Big School soon aren’t I?”

“No, darling. Big School is weeks and weeks away. We have to play this game with the neighbours until I say so. It is a very important game. If we lose this game then…” Mummy gulped. “Lets just say that we have to win this game.”

I need to go to the toilet. The toilet is very smelly because we cannot flush it but I have to go poo-poos. I squeeze my nose as tight as I can and open the door. My poo is like brown pee. We don’t have any more toilet paper and so I have to use daddy’s old newspapers. It feels horrible on my bottom and doesn’t clean up properly. I remember asking mummy ages ago why we don’t have any toilet paper.

“We can’t go out of the house, sweetheart,” she said. “If we go out of the house, then Mr Jones next door will see us and we lose the game. You remember the game, don’t you?”

“I hate this game. I hate it in here. I want to go outside.” My face was red and sweaty. It was hot and smelly in the house. This game was rubbish. My voice was getting louder and louder.

“Shhh sweetie,” said mummy wrapping her arms around me like a blanket. “I know you don’t like this. I don’t like it here either. But if we go outside, mummy and daddy will get into a lot of trouble. You have to be calm and quiet. I promise it won’t last much longer.”

I hope daddy will come back soon. I’m scared. Even Edgar’s not around anymore. He died last week. Mummy put him in the freezer and said we should eat him if there was nothing else but I’ve still got a tin of cat food in my toy box. But I have to go downstairs to get the can opener. I don’t want to go downstairs because Mummy’s lying in the rocking chair like she’s sleeping, only she’s not breathing. Maybe daddy will bring home a chocolate bar with nuts. I don’t want to eat Edgar.

Mummy tells me that I shouldn’t look outside but sometimes I open up the curtains a tiny, tiny bit and peek through the smallest crack in the curtains. I do this at night when mummy’s asleep. Mr Jones is walking outside his house with his wife and a lot of other people I don’t know. He doesn’t see me. Nobody in our street has their lights on. The moon is very bright and shines directly on top of Mr Jones’ bald head.

Mr Jones is a nice man. He wears half-glasses and wears a green cardigan. He lives next door and always seems to be gardening. He likes to ask me how I’m getting on and how much I’m growing. I can’t wait to go to Big School. I’ve already got my pencils and pencil sharpener and a ruler. I’ve also got a pencilcase and a blue bag with a dinosaur on the back. I like dinosaurs.

When I am scared at night I pull up the sheets so the ghosts don’t get me. Mummy comes into my room and tells me everything is alright. I sleep with the covers pulled high over my head and sometimes I hear other people scream but not me. I’m a good boy and I don’t make a sound, even though I want to. Mummy says that if you make a sound then they get you. You have to hide yourself away so they can’t see or hear you.

Jemma made noises and mummy had to kill her. Jem was all sick and feverish and I said that we should go to the hospital but mummy said we couldn’t. She got hotter and hotter until one day she just stopped breathing. Mummy crossed herself and cried and plunged a knife deep into Jemma’s right eye. I know because I saw it through the keyhole, even though she said that I had to leave the room. But mummy knew I was outside and opened the door and said if she ever got like Jemma that I’d have to put a knife in her too. I was a good boy and didn’t cry or anything.

“Don’t be sad mummy,” I said hugging her. Jem was a funny colour. Her face was a strange grey.

Mummy used to hold me tight when I was scared but I’ve got no-one to hold now except my teddy bear. Mummy told me that I had to kill her just like Jem.

I said, “No mummy I don’t want to. Mummy please don’t make me.” And she said “Shhhh. I love you more than life itself. Do this for me. Do this or I’ll end up just like Mr Jones and everyone else outside. Your daddy will come home soon and then you and him will run away to see Grandma and Granddad in the countryside.” She kissed me and hugged me and then put this huge knife we cut meat with, up to her eye and told me push it in as hard as I could. She said, “I love you so much” and then I pushed and pushed and pushed.

There’s this scratching downstairs at the front door, just like Edgar used to do, when he wanted to come in. I think that it might be daddy but then I remember that he said that if I hear any funny noises that I wasn’t to listen to them. I crawl as fast as I can to mummy and daddy’s bed and pull the dirty sheets high over my head. Outside, Mr Jones is shuffling, shuffling, shuffling, like he’s sweeping his front porch.

My head under the covers, I hear something stir in the living room, like the rocking chair is moving back and forth. I lie perfectly still, holding my breathe 1…2…3... The sound stops. I exhale and wait. There is a noise in the hallway. Then it climbs the stairs, one step, slowly at a time. It makes a funny sound on the carpet like mummy’s slippers.

[edit on 9-10-2005 by kedfr]

Kedfr

Really good scary story! I enjoyed reading it - although I felt sad for your little boy. I like the way the tension increases and then accelerates all the way up until the end. Great pacing and nice scenes too - it reminded me a little of a Hitchcock film - a very visual unfolding, which IMO is what scary stories are supposed to be about.


Good luck in the contest







[edit on 10-10-2005 by nikelbee]

Thank you mrwupy and nikelbee for your kind comments on my story.

Hi kedfr,

This was a really good story!! I especially like how it starts off in such a shocking way, and then proceeds to take the reader on a wild ride! I was thinking that maybe the little boy's parents were psychopaths or something. I then realized that the neighbors were the problem!(well, part of the problem anyway)

Your portrayal of the story through a childs eyes is very believable. I like how I was confused about how I felt about him, until I realized what was happening. (I was thinking he might be some sort of demon child or something!)

The only thing that I was confused about was this sentence:

He likes to ask me how I’m getting on and how much I’m growing.

I kept wondering how he was able to talk to Mr Jones if he was only peeking at him through the curtains. I guessed that he was refering to an earlier time when things were more normal. However, the way it reads in that paragraph, it confused me for a bit.

The way you ended your story was great because it leaves the reader to their imagination! I remember the days when I thought a blanket over my head was all the protection I neede.

Great story kedfr!!

Thanks for your comments sylvrshadow. I've done a bit of further tweaking here and there after I submitted this story and edited out that part you pointed out. The boy is referring to a previous time but it is a little vague in the context of the story. I didn't re-submit the story post-editing as I thought it a little pointless.

In any case, thanks for your kind words and I look forward to reading your stories if you manage to submit any for this contest.