Yeah, yeah. I'll get to writing the first the chapter of Alone!I promise! :3
I am the worst at making of titles for these. xD
(STORY TIME MY CHILDREN)
Fingers licked clean of blood, savoring the taste.
He would have said so, but, sadly, he had no voice to express him.
It was lost somewhere, he was sure, he'd find it sooner or later.
Once shiny blonde hair, now darkened with red.
Once violets eyes, full of care, now full or hatred.
More. He wanted more. A larger canvas for him to paint with the colours pouring from the two bodies surrounding him.
Bodies the boy labeled as Arthur and Francis. Daddy and Papa.
Daddy was a drunkard, always hitting.
Papa was a slut, bringing in every man or women willing to open their legs.
Daddy liked to hurt him, Papa was to busy in the back to notice.
But, now, they'd both been turned into beautiful paintings. Eyes frozen, wide in horror. And possibly regret.
They lay side by said, markings made from blood surrounding their disfigured bodies.
The walls were even painted, flowers and nonsense symbols.
His masterpiece was almost complete, just one more detail.
A sigh came from the artist of the gruesome scene, leaving the room, he stood patiently besides the door Alfred should pass through any moment now.
His dearest brother who stole the only person who managed to make him smile. The tall Russian boy with silver strands of hair and violet eyes much like his. Ivan would hurt, he know, but he'd get over it. Find someone much more suitable for him instead of his brother.
A click and the turn of a handle, the door was being pushed open.
A head of blonde, the swing of a knife baring arm, a surprised abut fearful gurgle and his dear Alfie was down. A gaping wound bleeding red on his neck.
Tsking at his brothers tendency to make messes, the boy dragged the body to the room with the others.
Alfie lay besides Daddy whom lay besides Papa.
A large puddle of blood surrounding them and growing more.
Smiling, he sat above the three and lay down.
Using the knife he'd slain Alfred with, he cut deep into his wrist, dragging the knife upwards. Tears slipped down his cheeks from the pain. Shakily taking the knife into the hand of his wounded arm, he attempted to do the same damage to his other arm. He was shaking too much, but settled with a cut not as deep as the first but good enough. Dropping the knife, he curled into himself.
Matthew Williams murdered his family and then committed suicide on July 1, 2011.
. . .
"It was a truly gruesome scene," an officer recalls, ". . .the walls and everything surrounding the bodies were covered in drawings made from blood. . ."
. . .
Neighbors say that Arthur Kirkland, was possibly an abusive alcoholic.
. . .
"He was always quiet, never brash like his brother. . ."
. . .
Ivan quickly read through the newspaper, only catching a few things. Surprise was shown on his face.
He had been quite unaware of his friend's thoughts, too caught up in the boys brother to notice anything.
(THE ENDDDDDDDDD.)
ADHSJFDSVFDKCVFC. Well then. That failed epicly. xD
Erm, Review, please?