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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #1099991
There's a special room. A room for special people. Where special things happen.
This is my room: My space.

It's a secret place that I only share with a lucky few. Are you lucky?

Though most of the people I bring over think it's weird, it really is special. Ya see I love horror movies, horror comics, horror books and horror posters. Over fifty posters cover every inch o'the walls and I've nearly seen all'a the films advertised. Tonight I've brought Tina out 'ere so she can see what makes me tick. I asked 'er out, ya see, but the fuckin' bitch turned me down. Rejected. So I just waited 'till she was by 'erself, then I made my move. I called 'er over t'the car, opened the passenger door, as she stuck 'er 'ead inside I clocked 'er one. Knocked that cunt straight out. Bitch is 'eavy for a skinny, but I finally carried 'er 'ere.

She's just comin' round, 'bout time, it's nearly midnight. It's a shame she ain't gonna have time chat, I 'ad so much rehearsed. Ah, well, 'ere we go.

I love this part, the shock an' fear on their faces as the white static and noise from the TV light 'em up. More fear as the mad clown laughs behind them, somewhere in the shadows. Oh, that look of pleading and confusion as the noise of sharp knives scrape sharply down a metal handrail, slowly, inevitably getting closer. Then the sound o'the axe slamming into wood, breaking, splintering, just like their minds. And finally before the lights go out the voice of the lost little girl "They're coming." Then the madman "Here's Daddy."

I leave the light off for emphasis. Axes, knives, machetes, chainsaws, teeth and claws are at work all 'round the room. Tearing outta the posters from within. The monsters are coming and so am I. I pull the switch on the centre light. I've put in a low watt bulb for atmosphere. I know monsters love the dark. Ya can just make out the shapes. I see she recognises some of them: Dark legends surround us.

Tina 'as pissed 'er nick's, I can smell it. Michael stinks it too, he loves the fear. He cocks 'is 'ead to one side like a sad puppy dog. This is the signal for the others, but suddenly she's on the ceiling, four long cuts slice through her clothes and cleave her skin. Just as suddenly she falls back to the ground. Classic. They're all over 'er. After five minutes of carnage a bloody 'and raises outta the mass of bodies; grabs the light switch; pulls.

Darkness and quiet.


"Mother! What have you done?"

I asked this bitch called Leigh out, she fuckin' rejected me. Time to show her my room.


No. Of Words: 454 - For the "Struck By Lightening" Flash Fiction Competition.
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