Short Story Compilation

A Christmas to forget

I sat in the living room on Christmas eve finishing my drawing, I had been making a gift for my dad. He was going to be home for Christmas this year. He promised.

In the kitchen, the TV muttered at me, the words quiet and indistinct, but a comforting presence in the empty house. I sighed and continued to draw as I got lost in thoughts of times long gone.

I was brought out of my thoughts by the clock hitting twelve, the loud tolls on the bell filling the silence. Looking down at the now finished drawing I stood up and set it under the tree for my absent father.

"I guess I have to go to bed...he will be here tomorrow." I murmured, walking upstairs to my room and and turning off my lights. I fell asleep too thoughts of spending Christmas with my dad.

The next morning I woke up and ran downstairs, looking for dad. Running into the living room I frowned. He wasn't there. I looked all over the house as I called out his name but he was nowhere to be seen. Dejectedly walking back up stairs, I made my way to the kitchen to make myself breakfast. I grabbed the TV remote and turned on the news to see why my father broke his promise, again. What I saw haunts me to this very day.

On the TV was a picture of my father's dead body. It was mutilated almost beyond recognition but I knew it was him from the dark red jacket that he always wore. Behind my father's lifeless corpse stood the monster who killed him, a hint of a smile grazing his lips like he was king of the world. Rubbing my eyes I looked at the screen again to see if I had been imagining things but no, my dad was dead. My screams pierced the air, I don't know how long i cried but when I came to my senses the news was now talking about the weather. I turned the TV off, it no longer held any interest to me. I already knew what I had to do, it was clear as day. I needed to avenge my father. Looking over at a old photo of my father and me on my 10th birthday. I turned away from the TV and into someone's chest. I staggered back and looked up in shock at my father's killer. My mind was reeling with questions. I opened my mouth to speak but he started to talk.

"So the old man wasn't lying. He does have a family," The killer murmured, looking down at me.

I don't know what came over me but I slapped him, hard. I tried to kick him but he caught my leg with ease, forcing me to hop on my free leg so I would not fall over. He looked down his nose at me, I knew he enjoyed my suffering, and he shook his head without saying a word. This only made me want to kill him more. This cocky bastard didn't deserve to live, just like my dad didn't deserve to die. My dad never did anything to deserve death, he might have done some bad things, but he never deserved to die because of his actions. And, okay, there was the incident with the bomb and the full stadium but that was an accident, and nobody actually died.

Trying to pull my leg from his grip, he ended up just letting me go right as I tugged at it again causing me to tumble backwards into the counter. As he turned to leave, I grabbed a knife and shoved him to the ground. As he rolled over I sat on his chest and held the knife to his throat causing him to freeze. I saw wet splotches forming on the monster's chest and it took me a moment to realize they were tears, my tears. This man who killed my father, i could kill him at any moment.

I started laughing, but not how a maniac would laugh. It was a broken laugh. I stared down at him and pressed the knife deeper into his neck, drawing blood, but he didn't fight back. He just stared at me. I stared back.

"Does it feel good? Tell me Mr. Big Shot, does it feel good knowing that you took a man's life? Does it feel good knowing that that man had a daughter? He never did anything that would justify killing him! He never deserved to die! Y-You took his life for no reason..."

My voice grew louder with each sentence. By the end I was crying, my words faltering as I registered something. Killing him would not bring my father back, it would only make me a murderer. Just like him.

I pulled the knife away from his neck and threw it to the side, disgusted with myself. Standing up I backed away from the man as he stood up and rubbed his neck. He looked at me like I was crazy.

"You do know that I can kill you at any moment?" He asked.

I laughed, it was the same sad, pathetic, broken laugh. I smiled at him and spread my arms, saying what I knew was true.

"Then you will be even more of a killer. The public will overlook my father's death because of what he was seen as, a criminal. They see him as the man who robbed the national bank, the man who kidnapped the mayor for ransom, and even blew up the bridge in the middle of the night. Maybe he was a criminal. But me? I'm just a girl. Twelve years old. Not a threat " I paused.

" Not anymore at least " I added under my breath

"If you kill me, an innocent, then you will no longer be a hero. You will be a killer. So go ahead and kill me, I have no one left in this world. Maybe I can see my dad again if I die. Go ahead, kill me. Show the world who you really are, because you are no hero. My father saw who you really are, and so do I. Despite how the world sees you, you will always be a villain in my eyes. So go ahead. Show the world your true colours, and become the villain "

My smile did not falter as I stared the Hero in the eyes. After a minute he broke eye contact and he turned to walk away. I grinned as he walked out of the kitchen and couldn't help but laugh, a real laugh, as I heard the door slam.

It seems that he wanted to stay a hero in the story, but to me, he will always be a killer. Dad, I have found my revenge.