SA chap 10 Fiendish Flashback

A/N: So glad that this is done. I wanted to get it done before Halloween but my life has been a little crazy later (including my sister and I dressing up as Vanellope and Adorabeezle). Anyway hope you enjoy.

The killer laughed as Gloyd felt the knife carve his arms and legs. The knife moved swiftly. He couldn't scream but even if he did the killer liked to hear the screams. It made the whole thing seem real.

Those screams would ring in the silence later that night.

The pumpkin kid wasn't the first one that had died by these blood soaked hands, but his murder was one of the most fun. Actually when Gloyd was barely breathing, the killer was laughing, no reason why. "Oh the joy of killing children. So innocent, so pure, so terrified."

Why didn't more people kill? The killer didn't understand why. Cy-bugs were created with the idea of murder in mind and there had been many games full of murder. Why did people choose to solve their problems in other ways if the idea was there to find?

The killer returned to the hole called a home and sat back with a smile. Who would be next? It was obvious but the other racers would have to wait. A day was a long time but the racers couldn't figure it out, even if Minty spoke, which the killer knew she wouldn't.

There were souvenirs in the room, taken from Minty's house. The police would search there and if they found something, they might try to stop their fun and that just wasn't going to happen.

The memories of the past couple of minutes returned. The owners of the deli hadn't seen the killer come in the back door. Quietly, the large butcher cleaver was taken from the back of the restaurant as the owners brought the pumpkin kid, Minty had called him Gloyd, his order. The wife was the first to die. As she returned to the kitchen to take a break, she was attacked and dragged into the shadows. Only a muffled few words escaped the killer's grasp on the woman's chin. She was powerless against the killer so she stopped struggling.

The husband began to be concerned when he hadn't heard from his wife after he asked her a question. He took one of the steak knives off a nearby table and slowly entered the kitchen. Gloyd was silent but the killer had known he was there. Killers had ways of knowing where their victims were.

The man did not scream much although the killer didn't give him much time to. As soon as the door shut, the killer sliced open his stomach and grabbed the steak knife. The wound killed him in a instant. They weren't important, they were only the appetizers. If Gloyd had to wait for his... 'reward' for being a part of Sugar Rush, there was a more likely chance that his murder would be spoiled for the night.

The killer moved and stood behind Gloyd with the large and bloody cleaver in his hand. "I hope you are going to listen to me now. I want you to enjoy this as much as I do." Gloyd froze as the killer's cold voice entered his eardrums. He knew running was useless so he simply nodded his head.

"Good little boy." The killer said with a wide, creepy grin and patted his head, scratching some pumpkin away. The killer ate what he had in his hands and moved over to a nearby table. Taking a napkin and a gummy worm from the kitchen, the killer gagged Gloyd and pointed outside. Gloyd followed, losing hope with each step.

"Kneel." The killer commanded Gloyd. He obeyed and began to feel like one of Vanellope's devil dogs, following orders. "You should be honored to bow before me." The killer told Gloyd. "I don't let most have enough time to but then again your one of the 'special cases.' Now," The killer said and moved closer to Gloyd, dirty blade still present. "You're going to die."

The next thing the racer knew he had two long wounds on his cheeks which had been received with some much force that he had been knocked off balance and landed on his back.

Now it was time for the killer's favorite part. He raised the knife above the boy and thrust it down into his arm. He yanked it out and this time shoved it into Gloyd's lung. Gloyd wheezed as the killer took the knife one final time and stabbed him in the heart.

The killer looked at Gloyd once it was over and decided to add one last finished touch. What is Halloween without a jack-o-latern? The killer had to fix that. The killer took the steak knife and wrote the words 'You're too late'.

Now at home, the killer couldn't help but giggle at the gruesome details of the murder as the sights, smells and sounds came back. He just couldn't help but giggle.