Hier ist eine Kurzgeschichte die ich für den für Englisch-Unterricht schreiben sollte. Ist bisschen her, dass ich die geschrieben habe, erwartet also nicht zu viel (auch generell von mir nicht bitte ;-;)
Joa also viel Spaß an alle, die Englisch können hier.
The Perfect Murder - Animal 22.09.2023
He was a poor old soul. Rotting in shreds of loose clothing. His wild eyes filled with paranoia and a certain kind of unhingedeness, that can sometimes be observed in animals. Dark his irises darted from left to right, restless trying to find something, not even he knew what it was. Once he was a hard-working employee of the former Masters of the tall mansion, he spent his old days on, living like a creature of the dark. A rat in the sewer, scared of the light, desperate for some warmth.
Joane was only twelve years old but bright in her head, smarter than even Mister Simons, who occasionally visited and homeschooled her. Joane lived alone in the Mansion, except for her old nanny, who could barely hear.
A strange girl she was. Even as a small child, she already had felt drawn to the dark things, staring at the dead animals in the library for hours. Their painted glass eyes glaring down at her, their bodies stuffed with cotton. Sometimes she tried to replicate them, hunted down mice and rats, until they were as quiet and stiff as Romeo.
Joanes first tries were rather messy and ended up looking like weird stuffed socks, but Romeo ended up looking pretty close to his alive state.
Neither the Nanny, nor the woman from the children's home seemed to notice the missing black cat, when she came by once a week to check on the orphan girl.
But Joane had higher goals. Her inspiration came from the old vampire movies, she found on the attic.
Vampires were the darkness' work and Joane was certain the old man was one too. She felt his dark persona lurking in the soft shadows grasping for her with thin arms. Hovering over her every moment. She knew he was there. And she was prepared. Her fathers old hunting knife served her well and soon she had carved a pointy stake out of a soft fire-log. The vampire wouldn't be no more, she thought to herself, face glowing with pride.
The creature was everywhere, she only had to make it get close to her. It started again with rats. Joane hunted them down. Just as she had taught herself. She brought their bodies swelling with blood to the shadows. The vampire, desperate for feeding, clawed at the rats flesh with his long fingernails, snapping their fragile necks with his blunt, cracked teeth. Eyes wildly unfocused, opened wide, mouth glossy with blood. His lanky body bent over the warm bodies.
Joane was fascinated. She came closer to him, her head slightly tilted. Eyes almost black, she crouched down slowly.
The air was cold and sharp from the blood, its metallic scent painting Joane's mind in the most beautiful, brutal colours. Blood seeped through the shadow, down into the ground. The man's yellow teeth bared, like the animal he was. His body cramped into an unnatural position for a human to be in, but to call him human was not true, and Joane knew it. The long corridor was empty, the silence thick, only broken by the sharp snapping of rat-bones, as she watched it feed on the cadavers.
His eyes were so wild. It had lost everything of his former self. Ducking over a pile of dead rats.
Joane crept closer to its rocking body, bone-cracking teeth, sharp as broken firestone.
It trusted her, letting her watch it eat so close to it. She could feel its body-warmth pulse like a red aura around it. Vulnerable. So Naïve.
She grabbed the stake pulled it out behind her back, adrenaline rushing through her. And something else. Joane stared at it. Then she lashed out and stabbed the vampire in the back, with all her strength and cruelty. Filling her lungs with the blood-stained air she felt the most alive she had ever felt. Eyes wide open and dark as coal with the wild gaze of a murderous carnivore. She stabbed it again.
It came out of nowhere. The creature screamed in pain and fear.
She stabbed it.
It tried to grab her, kicking her body away. But she knew no remorse for this predator.
And so she stabbed him again.
Its body jerking away from Joanes wild attacks, shuddering and shivering it screeched and screamed in agonizing pain. Joane didn't care. This creature was below her it was nothing.
Joane became it, and the vampire became nothing but a clump of crying flesh.
Now she was the animal. Slaughtering her prey. Its body cramping in pain.
Blood warmed her face, she tasted it on her lips, kicking her deep into an abyss of bloodlust. Its screams were music.
She mauled its back with her stake, the wounds as deep as wells, filled with thick black water, flowing on the ground soaking her stake until it was dark red. Its flesh torn, its heart helplessly beating in its cage, so fast. She buried her stake in it. The creature fought for its life, but Joane was young and stronger than the vampire. So she put the stake in its heart. Again, and again. One time. Two times. Three.
Then it was over. The creature was defeated. Its body lying motionless in black blood. Joane felt it on her skin, seeping into her bones. Waking from her trance she licked the blood from her lips. Pupils still dilated from the murder.
It took the last bit of her energy to carry out the body into the overgrown forest. Nobody would come here. The gardener had died of cancer years ago and the mansion itself was too far away from town for anyone to get lost here and eventually find the corpse. Still, she buried the vampire as deep in the humid ground as she could dig and to play it even more safe she buried the carcass of a deer over the corpse, so that even the hounds of the police wouldn't find it. Even if it was very unlikely anyone would even be coming looking for the old man. Nobody had noticed that he still lived on the mansions ground except Joane.
Back at the Mansion she cleaned of the blood, burned her clothes in a hungry fire. Afterwards she went into the living room and placed a candle near to one of the heavy curtains. Soon it catched fire and the grand mansion burned down fast, its wooden ribcage crumling to black coal, while the starving flames fed on it, roaring angrily and spitting its hot flames.
Joane was alone. She sat down in her sooty clothes and began to cry.
Soon the Lady from the orphanage found her. Joane was still commanding tears to flow out of her eyes, adding a little shake to her voice.
"My nanny is still in there!", she cried, pointing too the burned down remains of the mansion. The lady hugged her and took Joane with her to the orphanage.
The police's routine-investigation revealed nothing but the corpse of a seemingly drunk-passed out lady, that had died from smoke poisoning. Not one suspected the poor twelve year old orphan to have killed someone with such cruelty. Nobody missed an old man, who once had been a hard-working employee of the former Masters of the tall mansion, now nothing but a pile of black burned wood and ashes.
