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Rated: 18+ · Other · Dark · #1928138
My winning entry into a 24hr horror story contest.
ORPHAN ANTWON

Hi, my name is Antwon, I am ten years old and a orphan. This will have to be quick, cause I can hear the police sirens already. I never knew my real parents, lucky for them, I guess. I have spent most of my life in one orphanage or another, until I was bout seven or so, then people started adoptin me. It’s easy for me to get people to adopt me, cause I’m so cute. My light brown skin, hazel eyes, long platted braids, and super-duper smile always make’em say “ Awwww!” Then they take me home. Don’t matter that I’m black, like the other kids say, even white people have adopted me. The house I’m in now was my third adoption home in three years. They always send me back though. Just cause I like to have fun. The first folks that adopted me sent me back cause I beat up they daughter, lil bitch. She wouldn’t give me her Grand theif auto game, so I hit her a couple-a –few times with a track from my race car set. She bled some out of her face, and when I saw it, something tickled in the back of my throat, almost like the taste you get after you eat some really good ice cream, you know, that taste that makes you want some more? Yeah, like that. It was so cool the way those cuts opened up like your fly when you pull the zipper down. All red meat and and blood showin and stuff. I wonder what people taste like? Any hows, they sent me back. The second family was kinda cool, cause they let me hang out all the time, even at night. They liked to smoke “trees” and play cards with they friends a lot. They was black like me, but they wasn’t no Cosby show types. They ended up sendin me back too, cause some pets was found all mangled up in our neighborhood, and people said it was me that did it. Good ol Mom and Dad argued them up and down that it wasn’t me, until Mom found my dirty bloody school clothes in the laundry basket. Oops, I forgot to wash them up. The orphanage was really thinkin something was wrong with me, but they never told the people who adopted me about it. Funny huh? Now for my newest parents. NO kids. I think Mom is broken inside or something. Sucks to be her. Dad works at a TV station, they some richy type people, with a big ol house with a pool and stuff. Everything was real cool til I got in a fight at school and beat a kid up real good for givin me the stink eye. That was fun. He bled. Mom picked me up and took me home to yell at me. She started in on me, and I listened for a while, yesin’ and noin’ at all the right spots til I got bored. I couldn’t hear her no more cause all I could hear was my heartbeat poundin in my ears. I wanted to have fun, bad. I picked up the glass of orange juice I had been drinkin and smashed it over Mom’s head. She screamed and fell to the kitchen floor. Blood started comin out. Mom was tryin to get up, red blood all mixed up in her yellow hair. I wanted to see more blood , so I picked up a kitchen nife knife and stuck it in her tummy. I guess it hurt some, cause she screamed. It sounded good, so I twisted the knife, then yanked sideways hard as I could. Blood and red noodles spilled out. Dang man, you shoulda seent it! Mom was tryin to stuff’em back in, but I had a idea. I walked over and grabbed a handful of Mom’s guts and bit into some. Blood and some slimey stuff like warm gravy squirted into my mouth, and it tasted good. Kinda like when you suck on a old penny, yanno? Mom kept movin, so I stabbed her in the neck a few times. Now she was still. I was thirsty, which was weird since blood is a liquid. But I knew Mommies breast fed kids, milk come out they boobs, so I took off Mom’s shirt and bra and cut off her boob. No milk, just some meat and blood. I had some more blood. It was good. That’s how Dad came home and found me, all covered in blood and eatin Mom’s tit. I knew he was gonna yell at me, so when he ran over to spank me I put the knife in his leg. Dad stumbled backwards and fell, and I jumped on him and stabbed him all over. Dad was real strong though, and he pushed me down and ran away. I guess he made it to a phone and called the po-po’s. So I am at the kitchen table, full, writing this with Mom on the floor lookin like a zombie from resident evil got to her, waiting for them to come and get me. It don’t matter anyway. Where ever they put me, there will be people, and I can eat.

© Copyright 2013 Don Dadda (fdhatcher at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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