The Monsters in My Closet

What if there was a such things as monsters? Or does the only monsters dwell within us? There are gruesome scenes.


3. What Have I Done?

I shoot straight up gasping in sweat.My room looks as though there were two tornadoes, three thunder storms, and high winds ranging from 50 to 100. It was a dream? But the sounds are real. I hear them every single night. I have evidence. THE SCRATCHES! I run to my closet and sling the door open. not a single scratch found but lying there in the  center of the closet is a bloodied hatchet. Oh God. Oh God. What happened? It was all real wasn't it? Why is there a bloody hatchet in my closet? Mom. Dad. I run to their room. "MOM!,DAD!". I burst through their door with an abnormal force making all the pictures of our family in the small hall fall off the plastered walls. What I see brings me down to my knees,and  I instantly vomit until my guts threaten to leave their shelter. The demon was right. I am one of them. There was never any monsters in the closet. They were in me. My inner demons did this to my poor parents. They didn't deserve this. They were the best thing that could ever happen to me. What could have happened for all this to unleash?What could possibly motivate me of all people to do this? When I stand back up I notice all the blood on my clothes. Jesus. All this blood. How can there be all this blood? I finally get enough courage to look at the havoc I unleashed on my macerated parents. Holy shit. My dad's stomach is ripped from side to side, intestines hanging off the side off the bed, collecting dirt from the floor. His eyes are gouged, and his tongue is severed and was left to rest on his shredded chest. My mom lies beside of him the base of her jaw was hanging half ripped off her once beautiful face. And like the dream her heart was cut out her small chest.The whole room was a mosaic of red. The bed was drenched in it. The carpet soaked.The walls painted in it. I was drowning in fear and sorrow. What is wrong with me? I don't understand why. Just as I was about to think about taking my own life to drive away this madness, I heard police sirens. Another problem to my life They'll never believe me. I'll be in jail until I die. I wonder if they'll just give me the death penalty. How could I ever keep living if I know what I did? "New York Police Department!" I heard the first officer say. I know what I can do.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...