First Kills

13 1 2

When the sun was beginning to set, Marc still strolled through the woods, but stopped at the sound of two voices coming his way. Quietly, Marc hid behind some bushes and waited for them to pass. Soon after a 16 year old girl with long blonde hair that seemed to glow even in the dark and a 17 year old boy with dark brown hair walked through the trees. Their clothes were dark and blended in this the darkness that filled the trees and night sky. The girl and boy stopped at the sound of rustling. “James, I think we should leave,” the girl said to the boy. James laughed.

“Why are you afraid of a little rustling, Millie?” he asked grinning.

“No, I just have a bad feeling,” the girl, named Millie, replied frantically looking around for the cause of rustling. Marc came from the trees and looked at them, as they looked at him.

“See, there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just the Marc,” James said pointing at Marc.

In a flash, James was against a tree with a large knife in his chest and Marc holding it. James looked at Marc with wide eyes, terror and surprise clearly showing. Marc slowly force his knife up causing James to scream in pain as his ribs snapped, his skin ripped like paper and his blood splattering around. Millie screamed, but she did not run, for reasons unknown. James’s screams faded only to be replaced with blood that flowed from his mouth and down his chin. He went still, his body filling with nothing but blood and darkness. He would never see the sun rise again. Marc withdrew the knife and turned to Millie. Millie began backing away, but before she could even run, she was pierced through her stomach. Millie was in too much shock to even scream before she was thrown off to the side by Marc, like she was nothing but a rag doll. James and Millie both lied on the cold dirt ground, both of them carrying no life what so ever. Marc looked around with a horrifying smile. The ground was painted red with blood; blood splattered the trees as if someone had used a paint brush and flicked the blood off. Marc suddenly felt pleased, no longer sick or disgusted, he was satisfied. He was satisfied on talking on the new roll of death, that he would now condemn anything and everyone to death. He would let no one escape his wrath. They would all pay for abusing him, for bullying him. The town’s people never cared for him, after his mother died when he was 13, the town’s people didn’t even acknowledge him. They didn’t help him when his home was taken away, or when he was starving. Those people viewed him as nothing but a lower class or perhaps a ghost, someone who was presumed part of the deceased. Marc turned away from the lifeless bodies and sat under a tree not far away. The sound of squawking crows caught Marc attention to the sky. Even though it was dark enough that he couldn’t see the crows, he could feel them flying above, their eyes piercing the dead bodies of James and Mille, and their stomachs hungry for meat.

The Sweet Taste of Blood and DeathRead this story for FREE!