Game Over (Warning: Gore)
(Hey! This is my short story collection. These little words-between-brackets will serve as a mini-teaser, since ALL of my stories are in different genres and age groups. For instance, this story has a little bit of gore. So maybe read at your own discretion or whatever. The next one may be completely different though. So every 'chapter' will be a different short story. That odd little explanation aside, enjoy the first edition of the collection, and the first story I ever wrote!)
The morning sun gleamed through my window, shining in my eyes. I pulled the blankets over my head, unwilling to rise. My alarm blared in my ears. Guess I had to get up after all. With a sigh, I shuffled over and pressed the snooze button.
Slowly I sauntered down the hall, yawning. Glancing at the bathroom, I decided I would go relieve myself. I willed my body to go left as usual. But this time I kept going straight.
"No." I told myself lazily. "Go THAT way."
Blaming my actions on lack of sleep, I ended up in the kitchen instead. I figured I'd grab breakfast while I was here so I reached for the- drawer? Almost deliberately I slid the drawer open, my hand grazing across a large chefs knife. I held it as if it were a newborn child, small and precious. Quickly, I jogged down into my parents room, my body moving on its own. Frightened that what I thought was going to become reality, the door to my parents' room loomed ahead. I tiptoed carefully until I stood over my Father, a proud and strong man. I saw the knife raise, my heart racing madly. This couldn't be happening...
It came down like the force of an earthquake, and it felt as though time froze in the next few seconds. My Mother, sleeping humbly next to my Father, awoke with a bloodcurdling scream when she saw the scene before her. My Father lay in a heap, his stomach cut open to reveal his intestines that were dripping out of his body. He gasped in agony, bleeding out. I tried to tell my Mother I had no control, shouting at the top of my lungs, though my mouth didn't move, nor did any sound escape my lips. She dashed down the hallway, and I followed suit, noticing her snatch a phone on the way.
"Police?!" She screeched.
I caught up to her easily, and with a swift motion of the knife the phone fell from her hands. Her neck gushed out blood like a fountain. The last bit of light faded from her eyes, as she looked at me, horrified. Suffocating on her own blood, mother fell to the ground in a heap. Tears streamed from my dry eyes, and I started to hyperventilate. The pool of blood my Mother sat in grew larger and larger as I tried to figure out what to do. There was no way to save her. Hide the body? But where?! She had already dialed 9-1-1, so surely the cops were on their way. I needed a plan. To get away, forever. I stabilized my grip on the knife, and took a deep breath.
"Sir! Come out with your hands up!" A raging voice ordered.
Shit, already?! I have no time! Where was an alternate escape route? I scanned the house frantically. The door was busted down, police filing into my house fast as lightning, guns in hand. All thought evaded me, and I ran into them blindly, slashing violently. I thought I had a fair chance, but then a loud 'bang' reverberated through my ears. Falling to the ground, the faces of several men gazed at me, emotionless. I felt the bullet go straight through my head. Then a robotic voice thundered around me, seeming to stretch into space itself.
(Fun fact: I thought I lost this story somewhere in my phone notes. But I looked elsewhere and found it! This not-so-lost story has made it to your screen, so be happy.)