I don't own any of this stuff; I'm just borrowing it for a really good story for the writing club!!! The topic was an evil piñata that comes to life... hope you like!
Special Thanks to Jhonen, for inspiring me with this... I used an idea from one of his comics and I expanded on it.
Expanded version of MEANWHILE, The Little Girl Eats Her Candy...found in SQUEE's Wonderful Big Giant Book of Unspeakable Horrors.
I've been in homicide for two years now, this being my fourth month of the second year. I've seen many gruesome deaths, shooting, rape, hit and runs... the list just goes on and on. But in my two years of being on the job, I had never seen anything like this...
I had arrived on the scene just at the break of dawn... a few hours too late for this poor family. They had a good life, large house, and from the looks of it, they had a child... there was a piñata in the trashcan. My assistant gave me four pictures, taken the day before... goodness, the family had them developed fast... they showed a small girl, no older than six, the first picture she was blowing out the candles of her cake, her mother in the background. The second and the third held the chaos of the girl fighting to open a piñata with a bat. The third picture, held victory for the child, candy littered the floor and the piñata hung from the tree, the bottom half straining to hold on to the top half.
A cool wind ruffled my hair, and I shivered... this seemed like such a happy family, now three body bags were carried out of the house, two about six foot, the third, a mere four feet long... I handed the pictures to my assistant, and he handed me the digital camera that held the pictures of the bodies, the way they were found by the local paperboy. The first was the father, sitting in his comfy, red chair... then I looked again. The chair was supposed to be white, the thirty-year-old's blood was the new color that added spice to the chair, the left side of his face was missing, something had hit him hard, destroying it. Parts of his brain lay in his lap, under this, an open book; this family was taken by surprise...
The second picture, the wife, she had been in the kitchen. Someone had thrown her out the window. It was over the sink, she had been doing the dishes, the sink still full of soapy water. Her legs were the only things keeping her from falling out of the window... her thighs were shreds, glass cutting deep into them. Her face too was beaten, by some unknown figure.
Seeing this horrible scene, I almost didn't want to look at the next picture, but it was my duty that made me do so. My assistant, who was also looking at these terrifying moments in time, got sick to his stomach and made a run for some bushes that surrounded the house. I too wanted to follow, but I knew it was not a good sign for someone of my experience, though it was only two years, to act so sensitively to a case. All I dare to say is that the last picture was of the child, her body mangled beyond recognizable standards. It was now my job to find out who did this, and I had no clue...
I went home to think about this, after my day was done. I just couldn't put the clues together: there was a bat, the same the girl used at her party, but it held no finger prints, expect the girl's... and each member was taken my surprise, so the intruder was cunning and swift to kill each so fast and without the other members knowing. Unless there was more than one killer, then was the evidence? Footprints weren't left, but there were small tiny-tipped prints that trailed about the house, the blood from the victims, the paint. In fact, there were three in all, at some points one disappearing, but it did come back... to join the other prints.
I collapsed on my bed, exhausted by the days events and the long search of the house my assistant did. It was nearly morning, I had not eaten, just a shower. I wanted to hurry to bed, the faster the next day comes, the sooner I can find the murderers. I lay there for some time, before my vision grew black and the warmth of sleep overwhelmed me. Then as soon as I fell away, I drifted back. At first there was black, then there was a light.
I suddenly stood outside of a house, the house of the deceased family. There was a light visible from the front porch; it came from within the family's living room. This was where the father sat, or where he once did. But now it seemed that the family was still alive, their deaths, just a dream. I walked cautiously to the front door and when I reached it, I slowly reached for the doorknob. To my surprise, my hand drifted through it.
Shrugging it off, I slowly tested my arm on the door; it too, floated through it. I took a deep breath and walk into the door, and as I had expected, I went though it. I realized that this maybe some sign, to help me solve this case. So I walked though the house, seeing that the family was still alive, trying to get myself to believe the events. The father sat in the living room, reading his book, the mother in the kitchen, readying herself for her chore of washing the dishes. After seeing these too still alive, I climbed the stairs that led to the master bedroom, but most importantly, the little girl's bedroom. I stopped in front of her open door, and I took a breath as I step though the doorway.
There sat the child, on her bed. She was stuffing her face with candy, and I smiled. She had work hard for it, judging by the pictures that had been taken earlier that day. I smiled, remembering those special moments that make a wonderful childhood. Her room was empty, expect a few toys, some pictures she had drawn lay on the floor, and a few portraits on the wall. She sat with her back towards her open door, me standing between her and the dark hallway. Then there was a voice from behind me:
"You..." I turned; two sets of eyes, then a third pair appeared in the dark doorway. The killer had arrived... the voice spoke again,
"You were laughing when you did it." The girl stopped chewing, and then she turned looking through me, and straight at the killers, who walked into the light of the girl's bedside lamp. I was in shock to see that the killers were not large, dirty humans... In fact, they weren't animal. They were piñatas, the largest about five and a half feet; the smallest, a foot long. They each had a rope tied around their necks, and each were followed by a trail
of blood, and I knew that these were the killers.
The largest, which looked like a demon, continued: "Is this how we celebrate life? By feeding upon it? Detestable little..." the head piñata came closer, followed by a dog and a floating rabbit, which explained the third prints disappearing.
I never heard the rest; all of a sudden I was outside the house again. From inside I heard the girl scream "Mommeee!!" and then the cut off word of "Da..." the girl was calling her parents, obliviously dead by now, probably instantly. Then I heard the head piñata once more this time saying: "Candy can be such a very bad thing for you." I looked up at the window I assumed to be the child's, and I recoiled as I saw blood splatter on the window, once, twice...
Time swirled around me and once again I was in my room, on the floor, phone ringing. It was just after sunrise, and I scrambled to my feet to get the phone.
"Hello?" My voice was hoarse from the dream, or vision, what ever it had been.
"Sir? Can you get a paper to write down an address? And we need you here immediately."
"Why?"
"We have another killing, the victims were beaten to death, just like the first..."
The phone fell from my hands...
Special Thanks to Jhonen, for inspiring me with this... I used an idea from one of his comics and I expanded on it.
Expanded version of MEANWHILE, The Little Girl Eats Her Candy...found in SQUEE's Wonderful Big Giant Book of Unspeakable Horrors.
I've been in homicide for two years now, this being my fourth month of the second year. I've seen many gruesome deaths, shooting, rape, hit and runs... the list just goes on and on. But in my two years of being on the job, I had never seen anything like this...
I had arrived on the scene just at the break of dawn... a few hours too late for this poor family. They had a good life, large house, and from the looks of it, they had a child... there was a piñata in the trashcan. My assistant gave me four pictures, taken the day before... goodness, the family had them developed fast... they showed a small girl, no older than six, the first picture she was blowing out the candles of her cake, her mother in the background. The second and the third held the chaos of the girl fighting to open a piñata with a bat. The third picture, held victory for the child, candy littered the floor and the piñata hung from the tree, the bottom half straining to hold on to the top half.
A cool wind ruffled my hair, and I shivered... this seemed like such a happy family, now three body bags were carried out of the house, two about six foot, the third, a mere four feet long... I handed the pictures to my assistant, and he handed me the digital camera that held the pictures of the bodies, the way they were found by the local paperboy. The first was the father, sitting in his comfy, red chair... then I looked again. The chair was supposed to be white, the thirty-year-old's blood was the new color that added spice to the chair, the left side of his face was missing, something had hit him hard, destroying it. Parts of his brain lay in his lap, under this, an open book; this family was taken by surprise...
The second picture, the wife, she had been in the kitchen. Someone had thrown her out the window. It was over the sink, she had been doing the dishes, the sink still full of soapy water. Her legs were the only things keeping her from falling out of the window... her thighs were shreds, glass cutting deep into them. Her face too was beaten, by some unknown figure.
Seeing this horrible scene, I almost didn't want to look at the next picture, but it was my duty that made me do so. My assistant, who was also looking at these terrifying moments in time, got sick to his stomach and made a run for some bushes that surrounded the house. I too wanted to follow, but I knew it was not a good sign for someone of my experience, though it was only two years, to act so sensitively to a case. All I dare to say is that the last picture was of the child, her body mangled beyond recognizable standards. It was now my job to find out who did this, and I had no clue...
I went home to think about this, after my day was done. I just couldn't put the clues together: there was a bat, the same the girl used at her party, but it held no finger prints, expect the girl's... and each member was taken my surprise, so the intruder was cunning and swift to kill each so fast and without the other members knowing. Unless there was more than one killer, then was the evidence? Footprints weren't left, but there were small tiny-tipped prints that trailed about the house, the blood from the victims, the paint. In fact, there were three in all, at some points one disappearing, but it did come back... to join the other prints.
I collapsed on my bed, exhausted by the days events and the long search of the house my assistant did. It was nearly morning, I had not eaten, just a shower. I wanted to hurry to bed, the faster the next day comes, the sooner I can find the murderers. I lay there for some time, before my vision grew black and the warmth of sleep overwhelmed me. Then as soon as I fell away, I drifted back. At first there was black, then there was a light.
I suddenly stood outside of a house, the house of the deceased family. There was a light visible from the front porch; it came from within the family's living room. This was where the father sat, or where he once did. But now it seemed that the family was still alive, their deaths, just a dream. I walked cautiously to the front door and when I reached it, I slowly reached for the doorknob. To my surprise, my hand drifted through it.
Shrugging it off, I slowly tested my arm on the door; it too, floated through it. I took a deep breath and walk into the door, and as I had expected, I went though it. I realized that this maybe some sign, to help me solve this case. So I walked though the house, seeing that the family was still alive, trying to get myself to believe the events. The father sat in the living room, reading his book, the mother in the kitchen, readying herself for her chore of washing the dishes. After seeing these too still alive, I climbed the stairs that led to the master bedroom, but most importantly, the little girl's bedroom. I stopped in front of her open door, and I took a breath as I step though the doorway.
There sat the child, on her bed. She was stuffing her face with candy, and I smiled. She had work hard for it, judging by the pictures that had been taken earlier that day. I smiled, remembering those special moments that make a wonderful childhood. Her room was empty, expect a few toys, some pictures she had drawn lay on the floor, and a few portraits on the wall. She sat with her back towards her open door, me standing between her and the dark hallway. Then there was a voice from behind me:
"You..." I turned; two sets of eyes, then a third pair appeared in the dark doorway. The killer had arrived... the voice spoke again,
"You were laughing when you did it." The girl stopped chewing, and then she turned looking through me, and straight at the killers, who walked into the light of the girl's bedside lamp. I was in shock to see that the killers were not large, dirty humans... In fact, they weren't animal. They were piñatas, the largest about five and a half feet; the smallest, a foot long. They each had a rope tied around their necks, and each were followed by a trail
of blood, and I knew that these were the killers.
The largest, which looked like a demon, continued: "Is this how we celebrate life? By feeding upon it? Detestable little..." the head piñata came closer, followed by a dog and a floating rabbit, which explained the third prints disappearing.
I never heard the rest; all of a sudden I was outside the house again. From inside I heard the girl scream "Mommeee!!" and then the cut off word of "Da..." the girl was calling her parents, obliviously dead by now, probably instantly. Then I heard the head piñata once more this time saying: "Candy can be such a very bad thing for you." I looked up at the window I assumed to be the child's, and I recoiled as I saw blood splatter on the window, once, twice...
Time swirled around me and once again I was in my room, on the floor, phone ringing. It was just after sunrise, and I scrambled to my feet to get the phone.
"Hello?" My voice was hoarse from the dream, or vision, what ever it had been.
"Sir? Can you get a paper to write down an address? And we need you here immediately."
"Why?"
"We have another killing, the victims were beaten to death, just like the first..."
The phone fell from my hands...