Random Emo Love Stories 2)
Alexander
You were walking down the street, listening to your iPod (Bring Me the Horizon). You were told that, since you failed social studies this marking period, to write a 9 paged essay and summary of the 18th century. Just thinking about it made you gag. You had stopped by the library for some sort of help for this stupid paper. "A book of the history from the 18th century, you say. They should be right upstairs", the librarian stated. She looked about in her late 20's; her long, brown hair was in a tight bun and her black rimmed glasses made her look much more sophisticated. Her black skirt went to about her knees and the sweeter was brown, almost as dark as her hair. You did as she said and went on up the dust covered stairs. It looked as if it hadn't been cleaned upstairs since the 18th century. You pushed the cob webs away with your long black sleeve. You thought that you were just going to get the first book you picked up, but the first one you picked up seemed to crumble away. Another one seemed to really catch your eye so you picked it up and actually looked through it.
In 1834, a criminal by the name of William Quincy Velvet was charged with the murder of a family of three. A husband, a wife, and their child were said to be killed by this man. Velvet has had past psychological problems, and has threatened others in the past, but has never done something such as taking another person's life. The trail for him had said that he was framed by another man. This man was said to be extremely obsessed with seeing people in pain and was very sadistic. The man had been diagnosed with leukemia, or a bone disease. It had been the death of that man 1 week before his sentence to be hung and executed for killing over 64 women, 37 men, and 29 children. If killing one person back then would get you in trouble, this man had killed over 130 people within the time of 2 months. The only thing that the public ever knew from the man personally was his name, which was Tristan A-
The rest of the page was tornoff, and because you didn't feel like checking out another book you just took that one home with you. Your house or apartment is the better word for it was pretty old, you've heard people say it was haunted by a ghost, but you didn't believe in something like, but you were starting to question it. You had been having dreams of a man with brown hair and suspenders; he looked like he was from the early 1800's by the way he looked. He had said that his name was Alexander. Even though they were only dreams you had loved going asleep every night to see Alexander. You sat the book on your bed and opened it up. Just as you were going to start reading your book, you heard something fall on the floor. It was just an old picture fame. It was your favorite one of you and your family before your parents passed away (just go with it). It had a large crack going down the middle. The middle is where you were in the picture. The crack appeared to go straight down your body. "It's just a picture with a crack don't make such fuss over it." You told yourself to keep calm, until a cold wind came through the room and blew the pages turning them all sorts of different ways. You didn't mind it until you realized that none of the windows were open and the fan wasn't on. A sharp cold wind pierced through your body causing you to chill. Looking into the mirror behind you see a whitish figure before you could scream, he covered your mouth.
"Shhhh… Now we don't want to bother your neighbors would we?" The figure questioned. You had suddenly remembered the dreams that you had been having about a man that looked just like the figure before you. He removed his hand from your mouth.
"Wait… you name is Alexander isn't it?" You asked.
"Aren't you a smart graham cracker, are you not?" His English was a bit odd. Well, odd to the modern day English that you were used to. "Alright then, my sweet honey oat, what shall we do now? I know." He walked over to you and pulled out a long butcher knife and ran it across his tongue and then down your arm. It didn't cause much bleeding, but it did cut you. Your body shuttered in pain. Alexander started to chuckle under his breath and said, "this is a fun game isn't it, my sweet?"
You stumbled away from him. "Are you nuts? What's wrong with you? This isn't how I dreamt you as." He laughed louder.
"Dreams aren't all real." He ran over started to cut across your face, arms, legs, and you had cuts just about everywhere on your body. After a certain amount of blood loss, you had fainted.
You woke up to see Alexander sitting on the bed reading the book you had checked out of the library. He was turned to the page that was ripped. He stated to read aloud what was there.
"…this man had killed over 130 people within the time of 2 months. The only thing that the public ever knew from the man personally was his name, which was Tristan A-. " He paused and reached into his back pocket and removed a small piece of paper and slid it on to the ripped page. Completing it. It now read: this man had killed over 130 people within the time of 2 months. The only thing that the public ever knew from the man personally was his name, which was Tristan Alexander III. He was the serial killer the whole time? Out of the corner of his eye, he could see you staring at the book with shock. He smiled. You looked over into your mirror and saw that all the cuts you had received had been stitched up and looked bloody disgusting. Alexander had walked over to you held you in his arms. "You know I love you, right? That's why I did this, so you'd die, so no one else could ever have you. I love you, my sweet _." He pulled out the same knife as before and slid it into your heart. While, not only, crying; he laughed and rocked your dead body back and forth in his arms, combing your hair with his bloody fingers. "Good night, _. You'll like this dream a lot better." He was wrong, instead of sweet dreams, you suffered seeing this night happen over and over again for all eternity.