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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1821147-The-Lost-Children
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Death · #1821147
These deaths of children is random, but the pattern? It only happens on Halloween.
Halloween was just around the corner, only tomorrow. But sadly, I can't go out with my friends and go Trick-Or-Treating.
"Mom, why can't I go with my friends? Mrs. Smith is coming with us!" I groaned, putting fake spider webs around the doorway.
"Billy! Haven't you heard about the legends here? Every year a crazy murderer comes and takes little kids, tempting them with candy before killing them!" My mother, a journalist replied with a sour face. "I mean, come on. What kind of a crazy person would target children and at Halloween!"
I rolled my eyes, grabbing a pumpkin.
"Seriously mom. Those are, like fake! A sucker wouldn't even believe that." Setting the pumpkin right next to our basket full of skeleton hands under our right window.
"Gee Bill, thanks. I hope my stupidity isn't that much of a bother." Mom laughed; one of her relaxed laugh and I exhaled in relief. I'm already trouble from sneaking in a cookie before dinner.
"But really Billy, you're only 11. Aren't you old enough to do something as childish as dressing up and getting free candy?" I shook my head and gave a firm reply. "You are never too young to do something you considered fun or as people say 'childish'" Mom raised her eyebrow and nodded, understanding it was Dad who was behind of these influence speeches.
"Alright Bill, let's get washed up for dinner. Your father will be home in about few minutes, later we'll watch a movie before going bed."
"Awesome, thanks mom." I ran to the bathroom and washed my hands, getting off the dirt and dried mud. Slowly I grabbed the towel to wipe my hands off before my temple started pounding. Not your usual pound, it was as if a hammer was crushing on your head continuously.
"I need to stop eating sugar. They’re killing my brain." Struggling to calm my head I grabbed some pills from the medicine cabinet and swallowed.

"Thank you God for our food to eat and our house to sleep in. We will enjoy the food, name of Jesus I pray. Amen." I grabbed the fork, and dived into the food, a generous size of chicken dribbled with gravy, while the sides as mashed potatoes and green beans.
"That was a very nice prayer, Billy." Dad smiled warmly at me and my mother turned her head toward dad. "Yes, you're correct. Billy has been practicing every night before bed."
"That's my Billy."
"Stop it guys, it's not that huge of a deal." I ducked my head, embarrassed yet pleased with the compliments. Mom laughed and grabbed the wine bottle, pouring dad first before her.
"Dad, can I go to Trick-or-Treating with Hailey, Sam and Alex?" Mom looked up while she was cutting her chicken and gave me a cold stare, a sudden shiver went down my spine and she looked away.
"Sure, I see why not." Dad grabbed the wine cup and drank. "Robert, I already discussed with Billy that he is not allowed to go with his friends." Dad shook his head. "Mary, let the kid go. It's not like he'll be 11 years old forever." Mom inhaled sharply.
"I'll need him for the party tomorrow. You do remember that, right Robert?"
Dad blinked before turning to me.
"Son, you will not go with your friends. I'm sorry, but it's the best for both of us if I want to sleep on that warm, comfortable bed and you still want your computer."
I groaned before admitting to defeat. "Just staying trapped in this house will kill me!"

The next day, my mom came into the kitchen with food and placed it on the kitchen table.
"Mr. and Mrs. Bennington are here. Be nice, and polite." I nodded, standing up from the couch and putting my comic book behind the TV. I took the coats and onto the coat hanger after numerous people piled inside our house.
Finally! A break, maybe I can sneak outside and go with Hailey and the others. I quietly and quickly went upstairs, opened a door that had a staircase which lead to the attic and closed the door silently.
I went reached the attic and found my zombie mask and trench coat, with a plastic bag. Now, to think of a plan that I can go outside and back inside without making a sound; I opened the window and found a tree, just close enough to grab the branch and climb down.
I put my zombie mask on and grabbed the trench coat off the box and put it on before reading a newspaper headline.
HALLOWEEN MURDERER ON PEACEBROOK STRIKES AGAIN! WHO IS THIS DANGEROUS PERSON?
I grabbed it and started to panic. Another newspaper was under it, with a similar title but after the 5th newspaper I touch a book-like thing. My hands trembled as I grabbed and opened it.
Why won't they listen to me? How useless to scream, they should have listened. Should have listened
Erica Carter: age 6, killed by poison
Dennis Matthews: age 7, killed by car
Caylie Richards: age 8, killed by drowning
Ronny Cameron: age 9, killed by blunt object
Sarah Brooke: age 10, killed by suffocation

My breathing came in quickly, a piece of their hair taped next to the pictures of them.
It's too easy to kill them, where's the challenge?
My...mother, killed them? The attic door suddenly opened and my mother stood in front of me, she saw the scrapbook and the newspaper.
"Oh, Billy. Why could you not listen to me? You would never know of this and would continue living. I'm sorry, Billy and I love you." She grabbed a vase, and shut the door, she charged at me and I dashed and dodged the first blow. I dived out the window and grabbed the branch. It broke and I was falling, the air tickling my face.
I heard a scream, and then a shout of cry from my dad. But that was all what I could hear, before the light escaped my eyes.


People thought I would be dead, but I wasn't. A Miracle happened because my heart kept beating when the ambulance reached to my house and then to the hospital.
My dad told me the story, how Mrs. Bennington went outside for a smoke and found me falling. She screamed for help and called 911. The ambulance came but before I went into a coma, I whispered, "my mom killed them, she killed them." The police came that same night and arrested her, when they found out she was burning the evidence. The scrapbook was half-burned but still contained horrifying details and found videotapes of the children she murdered, how they were tied down to the chair in the attic and mom would taunt them, showing them pictures of their mother and constantly she would verbally abuse them. The most shocking blow to me was that she wasn't my real mother, but instead my Aunt. My biological mother name is April, she already had 2 younger children then me and she's a Math teacher living in Houston, Texas.
Dad told me I was in a coma for 5 months and my mother visited me every chance she got. He told me that I had to live with my mother and they will work things out so that I can be at my real home as quickly as possible. When I asked what would happen to dad, he gave me a sad smile.
"I don't think we should see each other anymore, Bill. The therapist said I had no reason to say connected to you, since we never had legally adopted you or something like that. And, he said that the memories would be too much of a burden and that it would be best if we weren't together to revive them.”
And I regretted it, but I agreed as I nodded my head with no hesitation.

Days turned into weeks, before the doctors confirmed I was strong and healthy enough to move into Texas. I said goodbye to Florida when April and I packed and tapped all of my stuff, I tried to keep my pride and would never looked back when my plane came, even when I wanted to, but I was scared that my mind would change its decision and would want to cling on Robert. But instead, I held my head up high and acted normally.
I would regret this a few times that I would never contact Robert but I was glad that I didn't.
It has been 11 years now but yet I wouldn’t feel any terror or paranoia on Halloween, instead I would feel sadness. That the innocent Billy before, was never suppose to have happiness in the beginning.
© Copyright 2011 Mystery (cherry10344 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1821147-The-Lost-Children