His darkened silhouette stood apart on the far wall, bearing no indication of its owner’s identity. He leaned heavily against the tall expanse of bare concrete, the half-moon shining down its unwanted light upon his thin shoulders. Even now, it was too light to accomplish the night’s mission. The moon may not have been the sun, but it had the same effect; it always did. He cast his soulless gaze over at the door adjacent to him. He would enter it to end these torments that were slowly driving him mad. 1
He was plunged into darkness and he looked up for the deprivation of light. A cloud covered the moon’s countenance, silently snuffing out its harmful rays. Confident he would not be burnt, he trotted over to the door and stared at it. So many of his dreams and hopes rested on this door even being opened, he couldn’t possibly name them all. A soft, cold breeze found its way under his leathery skin and he paused for a moment, relishing it. Yes, this was familiar; he understood this place, knew it by heart, just as it knew him. 2
He opened the door and found himself staring into the old chamber of horrors he’d once called his home. They resided here now, had tried to kick him out, in fact, but he’d refused and was duly punished. Still, he’d held firm and after a while, they’d let him be. Still, the memory of his terrible reprimand had not left him, and now he was back, after leaving for so long in the end. 3
He saw them, of course. Lying about the floor, watching the TV with spilled drinks and stale food lying about. He’d always been embarrassed of them, so they were never introduced to anyone. He hated their disgusting ways. 4
He doubled over and grabbed hold of his head for a second, nearly shrieking out in pain. Damn…another migraine. He clenched his teeth and balled up his fists until the pain subsided, then straightened up, tossing back his long, raven-black hair. His revenge could not be delayed, not now, not ever, not until it was over and done with and he could look back on it with a thoughtful smile on his face. 5
He advanced on the one closest to him. Knowing what this one feared most, he drew his razor and held it parallel his chest. He ran at him as fast as his muscles would let him go, and…and… 6
He awoke on the floor with the razor still in his hand and a sharp pain in his neck. Why…am I here? What am I doing on the floor? What happened? He put a hand to his neck and immediately pulled it away. His hand was red and wet. Blood…the other man must’ve fought back and knocked him out. Where was he though? Why wasn’t he dead? 7
He slowly stood up and immediately noticed a pool of crimson beside him. Was it his? No, he realized, no, it wasn’t. A deep gouge marked a body’s neck that lay next to him. He was victorious; he’d killed him after all. But how…he blacked out before he could even do anything, who was to say somebody else didn’t do it? He couldn’t…he didn’t want to know. Nothing would keep him from his goal, that much he did know. 8
He slowly looked around, for the pain in his neck kept him from really moving it. He tossed the razor away, no longer needing it. He drew his second weapon, a pistol this time. He walked on through the building, searching through each room as if he expected his worst nightmare to lay beyond its innocent looking door. In a sense, that’s exactly what he was doing. 9
He stepped into one room and held the pistol at his side, for he now saw his second tormentor. He marched over to this one and held the gun against his head, eager to get his second kill of the night and move him one step closer to achieving his ultimate goal. He felt his finger squeezing around the trigger— 10
He fell against the wall, his gun falling to his side. As he landed on the floor, his head snapped back and smashed into the wall, igniting a ferocious pain that’d already been registered as a dull ache earlier. He grabbed hold of his head at first, believing the pain to be yet another migraine, then yanked his hands back when, as with his neck earlier, they came away covered in his blood. How could this be? How…why was he being injured each time, every time? He’d been so close to killing the other man, how could he have possibly fought back? 11
He leaned his head forward, ignoring the pain in his neck as he rubbed his forehead with one hand and placed his other hand on the wound, a grazing really. He’d been lucky, but still, it bothered him. Why was he getting hurt? Again, as with earlier, his resolve steeled and he stood again, no longer wanting to know. To want was a dangerous thing, and wanting answers was the absolute worse; it was a lesson he’d known all his life. 12
He left his gun where it was, determined to forget about this latest incident and move on to his final target. If this was a dream, he didn’t want to awaken and face reality. Please, just…look, let me, let me have my moment, my time, please!! 13
A swish and a click signaled the taking out of his third and final weapon, a simple switchblade. Unlike the razor, this was a completely different weapon; this one didn’t like being stabbed. He reached the last door of the place and stood there, staring at it for a moment. This was it; this would end it all, would decide what happened from now on. He pushed it open gently and was immediately confronted with the approaching figure of the man he hated far more than the other two; this one had to die, and he’d enjoy it. 14
Holding the blade’s handle upside down, he charged forward, swinging it up so his arm guarded his face and the knife’s infinitely sharp edge gleamed in the blackness of the room, fully bared for attack. He slashed downward and diagonally with all his might, and could see the fear in his opponent’s eyes as the blade bit into his chest— 15
His eyes opened to an unfamiliar world of bright, white light and he cowered before it, terrified of its very presence. He tried raising an arm to his face to hide his eyes from the burning monstrosity of the room’s lights, but could not. He turned his head and saw the leather strap holding it down, the straps holding his whole body down. Why was he here? 16
A pounding pain erupted in his chest and he couldn’t help but scream from its intensity. What the devil was going on? Was he having a heart attack? He kept screaming until he felt something trickling into his arm, something that numbed the pain and his very mind until he could no longer keep track of the strange world around him, until he fell into a peaceful sleep, the eyes of a woman in white standing over him now coming to him. 17
He awoke once more in the same place, but felt better this time around. He wondered why he was here and where “here” was. He heard voices outside a nearby door and strained to listen in on whatever he could pick up, something, anything that could give him a clue. 18
“…said they found him with blood all on his clothes and all over the place around him. They didn’t know what to make of it all but figured that he either hurt himself or someone else did, and in the meantime, they brought him here. He’s been asleep since then, poor fellow, he needed it too; he looked like he’d been up for days.” 19
“How long has he been out for?” 20
“A couple days, not very long. He might be awake now.” 21
“Alright, well, I’d like to talk to him, being his doctor.” 22
“Of course.” 23
A man walked in then and he immediately recognized who he was: his shrink. He couldn’t wait to tell him the good news, that he’d killed the ones who had hurt him so badly back then. 24
“Hey, hey doctor, I did it,” he said, his eyes glowing bright despite the dull aches in his body. 25
The doctor simply shook his head and then looked right at him. “What do you mean?” 26
“I killed them! They can’t hurt me anymore!” 27
“I’m afraid you didn’t kill anyone—“ 28
“What? Yeah I did, didn’t you guys find the bodies there?” 29
“There were none.” 30
“But…I remember, I saw their bodies.” 31
The doctor again shook his head. This man would never understand what’d happened; would never understand that it was all in his mind. 32
“I’m sure you did.” 33
Author notes
Hopefully, this is something you can enjoy, and I hope it's what you're looking for.
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
1 - 22 of 22
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Yeah...just a bit. Oy
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woah. that's weird.
AND sad. 
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Well, unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to see either of those episodes, though I've heard the latter you mentioned as being one of the most powerful for people who have seen the series; what's sad, in a way, is that the episode mostly depicts real life over in Japan. For whatever reason, suicide pacts over the Internet are quite common...it's depressing, ya know? Oy...anyways
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Only an A-? The horror!!
I loved them. Also, the one with the younger detective and where whats-his-name committed suicide while he was in police custody...oh. That's just...such a good one.
The only one I didn't like was the one with the big guy and the old guy and the little girl and they were trying to die. It was...weird.
♥ -
What's odd is that all these crazy stories were written wayyyy before I started watching Paranoia Agent...those last three episodes are...incredible, to say the least. [adult swim] said the last three episodes were probably an A-; I gotta give 'em an A+
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Oh, scary! I love this messing-with-your-(my)-mind-stufff. I want more Paranoia Agent. Or stuff that closely resembles Paranoia Agent. It's so good.
Anyways, still not you though. But hey! I liked it.
♥
(Yes, I am back to reading archives. Muahaha...stuff.)
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Thanks. To be honest, I'm too impatient to start off simple and work up into what I eventually wrote in this, for example. It wouldn't surprise me if I have ADD lol. Thanks for the applause though, I really appreciate the points.
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firstly i wanna say that the beginning was almost too confusing to keep up with. you wrote it wonderfully and with great imagry, but i almost stopped reading cause i was lost. you may want to start off with something stable before you start throwing around odd stuff. however, i did like the end and the mysteriousness of it. overall the piece is great so i applaud you.
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I value what nearly everyone has to say about what I write; it's just a matter of whether or not I want to say more than simply, "Thank you." With some, that's all I say because I get tired of saying the same stuff over and over, so I always enjoy it when someone posts a comment that consists of more than just, "wow thats rly gud i like ur stuff," ya know?
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Of course-- firstof all I would praise your work-- i like it, straight tothe point, blank period. And I understand what you mean by the "doctor said" and such and such, that can get annoying as hell, no joke. I hate doing that, even though it probably dominates most of my work! LOL.
Thank you for replyin' to my comment-- it tells me ya actually care what i think. ^_^
You keep it sweet baby doll
Trish -
Lol, I'm glad you liked it so much. The people he was illusioning in his mind were simply just that--illusions. Think of that movie, "A Beautiful Mind." The people John Nash thought he saw were simply in his mind and nothing more; the same is true in this case. When the character in my story thought he was attacking those people, he was in reality attacking himself, and would black out upon doing that. When he would wake up, he'd see the other person there dead, but would feel his own injury, thus confusing him. Of course, I bet if I talked to some psychologist out there, I'd probably be corrected on virtually everything, but then again, ya never know.
As for my dialogue and the way I use it and such, I don't like to lead into dialogue by saying something like, "The doctor peaked into the room, and, turning to the psychologist, said...," or by ending a piece of a dialogue with a simple, "...the doctor said." I prefer to let the reader figure out what's happening; I don't like spelling everything out. Anyways, that's about all I have to say about this lol. Thanks again for your praise of it and also for the applause; I need the points .
Edited on Nov 15, 11:51 because ''. -
whoa!! You had me off my seat reading this write. Consistantly I was in the dark, lost, and yet only understanding what was important. He was injured along the base of his neck, and that he wanted to kill those who he was emberassed of. The filthy people that lived in his home illusioned in his mind. were it his parents or someone else? Tell me ^_^' i Must know. Im dying here.
Great ending btw-- yes indeed. though your last sentence before the doctors words confused me. I thought it was the narrorator thinking but instead it was the doctors. You have to define them a bit more so that the reader doesnt get confused. Other than that-- BRILLIANT! *raises hands above her and throws her head back to cackle* positivly Brilliant!
trish -
Thank you.
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this is really good, it's a lot like your story blood on the door,which I also enjoyed. keep writing great stories like this!
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It's not a cliff hanger; it's the end.
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whoohoo.. This was very intense... I loved it.. But I hated the need..What is gonna happen I hate clif hangers lol.. I just that I have to let my imagation start to come unfold lol
Always
~JENN~ -
Thanks; that's exactly what I wanted to accomplish.
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Weird.....I like it in a way. You did a nice job creating the creepiness, and keeping us guessing until the end,
Amanda -
What do you mean it's a contest for poems? It's listed as a story contest. Anyways, I'm glad you liked it; thanks for commenting on it.
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wow... this is great. I really like it it's very dark and mysterious. I agree w/girpuppy the imagery is great. technically the contest was for poems, but I will allow this too since I didn't specify, and anyway it's good. good luck!
~Autumn -
Thanks.
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wow.. very intense!! and i love the imagerY! keep it up!!
-Girpuppy
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