The Cyclones

It all started in a small town. I lived on the edge of town with my grandparents. My house was a lovely two story house, with a badge siding. The shutters around the windows were a rusted red color. The house was rectangular in shape and wider horizontally than vertically. The bottom porch was a finished red wood which was painted the rusted red color to match the shutters and wrapped around the bottom part of the house. The living room had clear, double glass doors that led out to the porch. Additionally, the porch was screened in with a glass storm door that was outside of the front door.

In my narrow kitchen, I was sitting down to eat with my grandparents, my friend Paul, my friend David, and David's pug. My sister joined us along with my brother. My youngest sister was at work. I was arguing with my brother about a Futurama themed Adventure Time when we looked to the left of the wall. The wall used some kind of video game logic. when there was a threat of some sort, the wall would become see through, so that we could prepare for the threat. I looked up and the wall was gone, revealing a very wide and scary tornado.

The tornado was about five miles in width, darkish brown in color, and very, very terrifying. What was even more terrifying was the realization that we did not have a basement. My grandfather rushed outside to the porch, where the tornado's wind was already picking up and secured the storm door that was opening and closing with the wind. He inserted a key to the door which brought up a computer program, using the door and a screen. He input some numbers and his code. A voice thanked him and he ran back inside, securing the second door. He yelled at all of us to get down under the table and to hold on.

I grabbed David's pug with one arm and grabbed the table leg with the other. Then, the tornado hit and everything seemed to slow down and happen in slow motion. All of us were anchored down by grabbing onto the table but there was still enough force to lift all of our bodies off of the ground. My grandfather shouted at us not to let go for anything. The fact that my body was suspended in the air while holding a pug was quite difficult.

David glanced over at me holding the small, scared dog. The computer program was working as designed though, the house was still in tact. Finally, we were being lowered back down and the tornado made its way back into the clouds. My grandfather asked if everyone was all right. I nodded and told him that I was going to take a walk to check on our neighbors. He agreed with me and proceeded to help my grandmother back into her chair. I entered a code on the storm door and it released, leaving me free and out of the house.

I walked about a quarter of a mile, looking at all of the damage done to the houses whose families did not pay extra to the federation for the storm door. When you were living on a planet like this one, the storm door was well worth the investment. I had almost made it to the railroad bridge before I saw them. As I turned around and looked, there were three water cyclones that had formed in the lake a little further down the street from me but they were heading my way and quickly. There wasn't enough time to get to the bridge for cover. The cyclones were getting closer, passing over cars in the road, sucking up up, and spitting them out like candies.

Three cyclones, I thought, I'm not going to get to say goodbye to my family because of three cyclones. Then, it's as if they passed through me. The cyclones left everything in black and white that they destroyed. I died. It was quick.

As I lay there dead, my body started flashing red, in contrast to the black and white environment. The next thing I know, I'm sitting at the long dinner table with my family, playing cards. I see that both of my wrists have these weird black metallic cuffs that have wires hooked up to some sort of battery. My brother noticed the light (or life)in my eyes and explained that the three cyclones had killed me and most of the town. He was able to bring me back but told me that my life came with a price. I had such severe brain trauma and damage from the cyclones since I faced them head on and without any kind of shelter or shield, that I would never again be able to make my own decisions again.

He demonstrated this by pressing one of the many buttons on the battery and I played a card. He told me that the fashion cuffs were the receivers for the commands. Finally, he looked me in the eyes and apologized for doing this to me but he just couldn't let me go. I pressed a button on the battery that let me hug him and I said, "let's play some cards."

Random Murder Story

I was sinking faster and faster into the memories, which strived to hold me down. I imprisoned myself with these torturous thoughts...and I couldn't let go of them. I knew that I had to forget about them...to push them out of my mind, but I couldn't let go. I couldn't. I tried and tried day after day, but they still remained. I couldn't escape the past...I had killed her. I was the one that did it. No one knew that I had pushed her down the stairs...except for Jennifer. She knew. I had almost stopped her forever, until my mother walked in. Sure, I had rendered her unconscious and she was in my basement now, but she would come to soon. I had to decide what I was going to do with her. If I let her live, she would be sure to tell the cops that it was me who killed my sister...that it wasn't an "accident." She would tell them that I also tried to kill her, and I would be behind bars forever. I couldn't let that happen. I had to do something...

So I sat there and played on the computer...hiding from my mother and the rest of my family. Thank god my house was a large one...so that no one could hear the screams coming from the basement. I just sat there and let the thoughts run through my head.
I awoke to find myself on a hard brick floor, with one barred window. I had bruises all over my body, and it was a real struggle to get up. I peered at the window to see if there was a way that I could get out of it...but it was no use. It wasn't big enough even for a cat to fit through. I looked down at my tattered and torn clothes...and brushed the dirt off of them. I didn't know what to do or where to go...I knew that I was locked in here. I was determined not to die down here and I was going to do all that I could to get out. If I was going to die, I was going to die trying.

I walked up the stairs to the door. I tried the knob, and just as I thought, it was locked.

I sat on the stairs and sighed in despair. What was I going to do? I knew he was upstairs plotting to kill me, I KNEW he was going to dispose of me...it was too dangerous for him not to. I knew too much.

Just as I was thinking of the ways he could torture me, I saw the floor open. A little trap door appeared from out of the floor and a head poked up from it. A tiny girl, who had to be at least 10 years old looked at me with bright eyes.

"Are you trapped like me?"

She asked and looked at me in question.

I was a little taken back, but I replied.

"Yes, I guess I am."

Then, I realized, I was talking to John's sister he murdered just a few days ago that I happened to witness.

"Well, follow me if you ever want to leave this house."

She said and then disappeared underneath the floor. I followed her. It was dark and brackish, but the tunnel led out of the house and into the cemetery behind it.

"Please, don't ever come back. John will be looking for you, and you don't want him to find you. Get as far away from here as you can. Take this."

She handed me a necklace and then disappeared. I placed the necklace in my pocket and starting running blindly through the woods. She was right, he would be looking for me.

I finally decided how I was going to kill her...I had taken the rope from the attic and the knife...she was going to pay...she was going to be silent forever...if I had anything to say about it. I opened the door and went into the basement...and looked around. She was no where to be found. I called her name out and looked around. She wasn't there. Where could she have gone? The window was still barred, she couldn't have gone out through that way...so where in the hell was she? My anger arose and I punched a hole in the wall.

I'm going to get that little bitch, I thought to myself, and she will be sorry.

The House of No Escape

I was in my dad's parent's house. I was there with my mother but I wasn't sure why. It looked completely different from how I remembered it. My grandfather had added on an extra story to the house but you couldn't tell from outside.

The renovations weren't complete - there was plastic everywhere. I went up to the second story to find that the floor wasn't finished. You could go to the edge of the linoleum of the second unfinished kitchen and see the living room below you.

There was also a bathroom on the second floor. I went into the bathroom, stepping carefully, afraid I might fall to the floor below.

The bathroom had been finished and was painted blue. There were flags hanging above the mirror. Plastic flags, like you would see as advertisements at baseball games or on the sides of hockey games. The big, center flag was a Georgia State flag with a panther on it. That confused me. I reached out to touch it but as I did, my mom put her hand on my shoulder.

"So, what do you think?" She asked me.

I looked around.

"It's not like I remembered it to be. It's a bit eerie. Why are we here?" I asked.

She smiled.

"Because we own it now. It was left to us in the will."

I stood there dumbfounded.

"We have people renting it currently but I could kick them out if you want."

What I wanted was to escape the house but I felt like there was no escape. How were people living there? The renovations would take MONTHS to finish. How did we come to own it? I was so confused. I collapsed on the floor.

And woke up.

The Nightmare on Elm St. - Rewritten

This dream played as a movie in my head. I was watching a movie, not active in the dream.

Freddy got a bad reputation. He loved his wife, that's all he was guilty of. He would kill for her. He would die for her. She was everything to him and he loved her.

His wife was a ruthless, cold, calculating woman. She was short in stature with a reddish brown bob and petite. She was curvy, but not fat. She always wore business suits with short skirts. Her appearance was always pristine. She was never less than perfect. Kruger had fallen for her looks, her poise, and her grace but he should have paid more attention to her flaws.

She was currently buttoning up her clothes. The plumber, the Mason's boy from down the street, was currently zipping up his pants. He wasn't so bad in the sack but he was dumb as a bag of rocks. This guy would do anything she told him, all for another chance to sleep with her. She cooed in his ear and slid her arms up around his neck and whispered into his ear. He was going to get rid of one of her problems.

They owned a three bedroom house in the suburbs. They also had a teenage daughter, Leslie. She lived in the top right bedroom of the house. Peter, the newborn baby boy the couple just had, lived in the bottom left bedroom. The couple, lived in the top center bedroom. Kruger pulled up to the house in his black F150, excited about seeing his newborn son. He had always wanted a baby boy. He took two steps before a giant blast knocked him back on his feet. He was knocked behind his truck. When he got to his feet, he saw that the room where his newborn son had been, was a giant, black, burnt hole in the side of the house. His son was dead. He started screaming and tears rolled down his cheeks. He tried to run to the side of the house but locals held him back. No one saw the Mason's boy driving away from the scene.

Leslie knew what her mother did. She knew her mother was responsible for Peter's death. Her father refused to believe it or see the signs. But, it was obvious. To make her point, she hid her father in her closet. He protested at first and then agreed. He knew his wife wouldn't, couldn't conceive of something so horrible. So, to please and quiet his daughter, he hid. His wife came into the room and saw Leslie. She smiled, a cold and calculating smile. She looked around and then spoke.

"Too bad that he didn't kill you as well. It's amazing how far men will go to get off. One day you'll learn how to do that, if you don't ... let's say," as she tapped a nail against her cheek, "have an accident first. Your father will. I've grown tired of him and he's just not as useful to me as he once was. That's why I kept him around for so long."

Kruger gaped in shock from the closet.

"I thought you loved father."

Leslie whispered, slowly. Her mother just laughed.

"Loved? NEVER! I never loved him! I just used him! Thank you, Leslie, I needed a good laugh today."

Kruger balled his fists.

Leslie's father had been useful to her mother because he used to kill for her mother. Her mother was a cannibal. She was too perfect to kill for herself - too much blood. So, she slept with Kruger and manipulated him into killing for her. He would bring the bodies to her and she would feed. Leslie would take the victim's clothes, which were stripped from their bodies before her mother ate, and wear them. Leslie liked the scent of the blood, but would never eat human flesh.

Her father burst through the closet door and hit her mother. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth and she laughed as she wiped it away.

"Did you really think that I ever loved you? I didn't want kids, I only had these mistakes to keep you happy so that you would keep bringing me food. You're NOTHING! NOTHING TO ME! DO YOU HEAR ME, KRUGER?!? NOTHING!"

Kruger, at that moment, punched her so hard that the mother landed across the room and cracked her head open on the edge of the steel corner of the bed. She lay silent on the floor.

Then, the police came in. Leslie and Kruger could hear them from the top floor.

Kruger turned to Leslie.

"They'll never believe me that I had nothing to do with all of this. It's up to you to get out of here and clear my name."

He said as he showed Leslie a way out. He opened the window and gave her the way out. Leslie kissed her father on the cheek and jumped out of the window, landing on the trampoline. She ran, as fast as her feet would take her, away from her childhood home.

As soon as Leslie felt she was a safe distance away, she stopped and turned to watch her dad. She almost screamed. Her childhood home was now on fire and she saw the police retreat, but never saw her father. She watched as her father and mother burned alive inside of the house she was just in. She was the lone survivor of her family. It was all taken away from her in a day. Just a day. She turned her tear stained face away. She had to keep moving. She couldn't let anyone know who she was or what she was doing. So, she ran again.

She saw her father in her dreams. He was always there.

A few weeks later, Leslie got a job at a camp as a counselor. She was going to some place called Crystal Lake. This place would help her cope with what happened. She would need to forget who she was and become someone else. She looked up as a male counselor across the room smiled at her. After what she'd been through, Leslie was ready for anything.

She smiled back.