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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2034575-Off-Politics
by NuThu
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Death · #2034575
What looms in a child's footsteps?
Jeremy wasn't doing very well in school. Jeremy was troubled.

He was an odd child, and a destructive one. Sometimes he heard voices, other times he’d have intense nightmares. As he got older he seemed to get worse, his behavior becoming more and more erratic and obnoxious. He had a hard time getting along with other students. In fact, he didn't like a lot of the other kids at all. They didn’t understand him it seemed. He knew he was special though.

By the time he had reached middle school, he had been moved to home schooling. Jeremy and his family lived out in the country and didn’t really have to deal with anyone out along the corn fields. He just wasn’t fit for public schools. He hated it just the same though, and he made it hell for his parents all the same as well. They didn’t get it. He thought bad things about them some times.

One day Jeremy realized he needed teeth, almost craving them at the thought. He wanted to please the tooth fairy. Normally she only gives money, but he felt if he made her really happy, she’d give him anything he wanted. Much to his dismay however, he wasn’t currently losing any teeth. In fact just a week after his 9th birthday he had passed a threshold of sorts and lost his last baby tooth. What to do? So Jeremy hatched a plan one night before bed that could secure her good graces. Jeremy and his younger brother shared a room, so that night he took a hammer from the garage and smashed his little brother’s face in. Luckily their room was tucked away on the other side of the house; his brother’s few shrill cries were not only muffled by Jeremy’s hand trying to hold shut the toddler’s mouth, but the walls and distance from their parent’s ears as well. Now Jeremy had all the teeth he needed!

He’s just sleeping harder now.

He knew his parents would find out eventually though, his bloody pulp of a sibling lay silent in his bed, his face smashed into a red puddle. He would no doubt get a scolding for this, even if it was for a cause as noble as making the tooth fairy happy. Luckily he was also aware of where his father kept his guns. He had more than enough time to sneak into their room and into their master closet. The darkness swirled and moved around him. Despite a few bangs here or there, as well as a faint touch of alcohol keeping his parents comfortable in their bed, Jeremy was able to obtain his father’s handgun. He stared at it in silence, listening for someone, for something.

A black mass just to the left and out of his sight fluxed and churned around his parent’s room, almost dancing in a distorted glee. How his eyes played tricks on him in that lonely closet, and how he wanted to leave and finish his plan. With that he stepped out and approached them, the gun so calmly held in his small hands. His father had trained him with this particular gun a few times actually, and there was a warped confidence as he lifted it to aim.

They looked so peacefully asleep in their beds, and he smiled warmly at how easy it will be to get what he wanted now.

Go to them.

The dark mass had been following him for some time now in all truth, months even. It never seemed to have a whole lot of good things to say to Jeremy, when he could understand it that is. Sometimes he would swear it spoke backwards, distorted and stinted garbles willing Jeremy to do naughty things. It seemed content with this though, and hushed to a dull humming in Jeremy’s temples as if in preparation. The boy aimed the gun at his father’s face. The man was a mill worker, and the exhaustion of working his whole life had carved his face with wrinkles upon wrinkles. He was snoring a bit though, and curled up on his side, he made an optimal resting target for Jeremy to take care of.

There was a silence, a long and drawn out one at that, and then there was a small explosion.

The bullet left the gun and passed through the man’s eye in a spectacular flash of light and gore. His body remained still for that second, and then forever on.  Jeremy, despite feeling a bit confused, was assured by the almost cooing tone the ringing in his ears screamed. That moment in time was only brief however, instantaneous in its motion. Immediately his mother, who’s head would’ve been penetrated by the bullet too if not for Jeremy’s unprofessional angle and her position, jumped up in terror. She immediately screamed at the sight next to her, breaking down into sobs almost instantly. Jeremy hadn’t time for this, or the scolding she could give him. The buzzing raged towards her, almost willing his arms up and aiming the gun. The darkness only barely masked the horror on her face, and beyond that, the betrayed confusion in her eyes.

The room was silent again, if only for a moment.

She could only stammer and sift through her tears for words, but there was nothing there to save her. Jeremy promptly sent another bullet. But his aim was not developed, and without the ease of a resting target he missed the first shot. His mother only dodging death just barely once again, finally realized the severity of the situation and tried to escape. The second shot pierced her throat however, and she quickly fell to her knees. The bleeding was not light, and she desperately tried to hold her hands to the wound, to stop the gore and carnage that she had already just escaped a few feet away. Her child had shot her, and beyond that, she couldn’t look away from the insidious and content stoicism on the boy’s face, almost shadowed by a teacher, by a parasite, by a will. The darkness pulsed, and the air was thick and disgustingly heavy. Jeremy slowly approached his mother, now on her side. She was sputtering now, choking on her fluids just like his brother did. The shiny wooden floor was a red wash, the dim moonlight here or there lighting up a red shimmer occasionally. He was somewhat disappointed he couldn’t do her as gracefully as he did his father, and he couldn’t help but feel sadness at her crumpled form. These people mattered to him, but he just couldn’t have them in his way.

They’ll sleep a little longer.

Jeremy was a bit more confident now. And he smiled at his mother, who had shut her eyes in an attempt to at least somewhat filter the phantasmagoric vision encompassing her last moments. She couldn’t look at him, at it, at whatever loomed under her child’s breath. With that he watched her last breath leave her, a panic turned to a peaceful calm as her body stopped quivering, as her mind fell silent.

Ryth al’ mykthas

Little Jeremy had done it! There would be no scolding for him. They’ll feel refreshed as ever when they do wake up!

He quickly and impulsively ripped out a handful of his mother’s hair, and followed suit on his father before leaving to his room. He was covered in blood, but he knew the tooth fairy would still grant his wishes. He snickered at the darkness behind him, how it almost cheered in glee and joy as he finished up his plan. 

The blood – make a circle.

Upon getting to their room, he smeared a messy circle onto the floor in front of him and his brother’s beds, throwing the teeth and hair into the center as commanded. Jeremy wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen but it was time for his wishes to be fulfilled.

The noise in his head was happy. Jeremy was happy.

They were happy.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2034575-Off-Politics