Clarice's House: A Narrative Fiction

As I looked up, the sky was dark the sidewalk illuminated by the streetlights. The sound of crickets and cars echoing through my ears. I walked home that night, tears in my eyes. I was leaving, I couldn’t handle it anymore. The meds, doctors, psychiatrists nothing was working, our lives were in constant danger. By the time I got home the car was gone. By the time, I finished packing it was dawn. The sun creeping in through the shutters. For the next couple of days, I crashed at Jason’s before I headed South. I heard my cell ringing, it was mom… I let it go to voicemail.

Girls perch on the tables like exotic birds gossiping and giggling, a football fly’s above their heads between two jocks in varsity jackets parading their toned muscles. Groups of high schoolers sit around the room laughing. Weekend has arrived and the hallways of the school were filled with tons of kids ready to go home. Every ear filled with the sound of multiple conversations going off at once, lockers opening and closing, music blasting without. I had managed to push past the constant stream of children and to the school field. The grass was damp and covered in a thin layer of frost. As I walked my footprints were embedded, leaving a piece of me in the cold ground. I saw my friends faraway chattering and fooling around. I was stuck in the wrong crowd; they are nothing like me but somehow I am still friends with them. I slowly made my way up to my “so called friends”.

I walked to the room at the end of the hall that led to the attic. I slowly placed my foot on the first step, calling out for Nancy. When I finally reached the top, I saw a long haired woman standing by the window with her backed turned to me. "Chelsea? What the hell are you doing here?" She was holding an axe in her hand and I started backing up, with no intention on going any further. She turned around and to my surprise, it was not Chelsea at all, but Nancy. She had blood rolling down her forehead, from the scalp that was ripped from Chelsea's head. "Oh, Dear," she said. "You gave me quite a fright." She started walked toward me. "What do you think?" She asked, running her fingers through the

He laid there, staring at the tv playing the news. It was about the shooting. I rushed to turn it off, blocking his view. He blinked at me, then smiled. “Hey, buddy.” I smiled back, crawling next to him and hugging him. Some happy tears stained our shirts as I held him. We laid there for a long time in just pure silence. Our minds were saying the unspoken words. “Why did it happen?” Travis said into the air. “It happened because--” I stopped short. Why did it happen? Travis stared up at me, waiting for my answer. “I-I don’t know.” my brow furrowed in confusion as I pondered. Silence overcame us again. Eventually, soft snores came from Travis. He had fallen asleep. I stared at the wall, still unable to sleep. A woman somewhere screamed for unknown reasons. That scream triggered a flashback in my

"I'm fine baby, it was you I was worried about." With his arms on her shoulders, Richard peered into Lexi's eyes, and gritted his teeth at the tears that dripped down his cheeks. What happened to her whilst he'd been fucking around, waiting for darkness to come?" Now wasn't the time to ask, and although a rage, directed at Karl Williams, exacerbated by the memories of his own treatment at the hands of the many many years ago, consumed him, and led to the thought of , despited his questions and fears, of streaming through the closed door, and confronting him and Blair Huntington to demand their freedom. However, common-sense overrode emotions and with Lexi clutching on to his hand, he wiped a tear gently from her cheek, and followed her to the

Ashley repeatedly screamed, over and over again. She did not know if she would die or if she would make it out alive anymore. She doesn’t know what day it was, nor why it happened. But all she knew was that It wasn’t a maniacal serial killer or kidnapper that took her. It was one of her best friends. The only questions left is, Which one? moreover, Ashley was tied to a pole in a dirty, dark, and wet basement. She heard the door to the basement open and there stood the person who’d taken her. She was abruptly silent before asking “Why did you kidnap me? Why are pretending to help find me? why?”. After a brief pause the person said “because you deserve this” the person slowly walked up to Ashley and kneeled down before proceeding “Everything that happens to you from now on…you deserve it”. “What did I, ever, do to you, to deserve this? what Mycah?!” I, however, jolted awake from my nap, realizing that I was still in 2nd periods’ math class. “What’s with you Jordan?” Brittany asked. “what? oh nothing, just a weird dream is all” I said before finishing my math

I was 21 now and I’d been hiding out at julia’s house for years now. I had a job and a child. For a long time i had been doing things on my own. I couldn’t live with my grandparents and face the fact they were the reason why my mother killed herself. At home someone kept knocking on the doors at night but we never knew who it

Lilly glanced down the row of cars all parked up under the trees. A chill moved through her. She brought her knees up to her chest, pressed her thighs against her rib cage and let her head sink down. She needed to find a place to stay. She needed somewhere to sleep and she needed to be able to get ready tomorrow to make sure Bobby saw her looking hot again. Because he would kick himself once he saw her all made-up in a nice dress and nice shoes. He’d feel pretty dumb for avoiding her this last year over a stupid pair of flip-flops. But how was she going to be that girl who turned his head if she spent tonight sleeping rough? Lilly closed her eyes and tried not to let it upset her. Puffed up eyes was the last thing she

I woke to shouting and banging on my door. I grabbed my pocket watch from the side of my bed; it read 4 o’clock. Who would be at my door this early in the morning? I thought. My body was dragged from the bed as I trudged along to my front door.

“Touch your toes, and touch the ceiling. Now sit down and play it right!” My piano teacher has me do this almost every week, and though the process brings me close to tears it has been known to work. Walking into Ms. Ladonna’s house is like walking into an all lavender Bath and Body Works. I have been taking piano from Ms. Ladonna for ten years and I still have to adjust to the overwhelming scent of lavender hand sanitizer. Ms. Ladonna sits on the left side of the piano in a brown wicker chair with a tall back, and I know it’s impossible but it seems like she’s been using the same blue pen to write my notes for years. Her glasses sit delicately on the edge of her nose and are connected to a silver chain that she wears around her pale neck. She is as full of joy as she is stories and she always has a lesson or a testimony to share. Sometimes I forget I’m even sitting at a piano when she begins to rattle off prayer requests or talks about worship. My family thinks I just go in and she

It was silent, so very silent. She could almost hear the swish of her dress against her calves as she walked the paved paths that led off to different places and different people all around her. It had been months since their first meeting; winter had turned to spring, spring to summer, summer to fall, and now it had circled around back to the harsh cold and the onslaught of rain that came around every January once more. Her blonde hair, curled and plastered to the side of her head as was the style in these days was protected from the rain dripping from the sky with a simple black umbrella. Her skin was ghostly pale, and her face cleared of the makeup that was naturally on it, as no classy woman ever left the house until she was all done up these days.

One windy autumn day she dropped her purple, floral hat out of her window. She watched as it flew to the mysterious woods. She had no other choice but to go and chase the hat. She slipped her cloak on and went out to retrieve her favorite clothing accessory. She headed toward the forest the feeling of anxiety and dread filled her body.

wind. It was as if it was crying, almost howling for its voice to be

What is more admirable of the crisp copper leaves falling off the trees that sway gently in the Autumn wind. The clouds overlap each other, making the sky a gloomy gray. A very kindhearted and compassionate petite long chestnut-haired nine-year-old lassie’s name Chasity along with her kinfolks was getting organized to rejoice Thanksgiving Day. Downstairs, Chasity smell the sweet scent of cinnamon apple candles burning while Mom makes a pumpkin pie in the kitchen. I warm my hands up by the fire, drinking hot cocoa that I'd been clutching in my hands to keep warm. Chasity closes her eyes and imagines kick up her heels through the leaves as they sway up in the air and float back down, furthermore can't help but let out a smile at this thought. Consequently, these were impartial warm memories that Chasity had with her Pepe.

It was a type of day where the sky didn't match the climate. The sky was bright blue like a silk blue dress without the presence of a cloud within sight. The nearly bare trees shook only slightly, like a lonely park swing, with every reoccuring gust that passed through them. The wind was crisp, yet possessed a sharp unforgiving bitter cold covering me such as a plastic wrap, chilling me wherever possible nearly to the bone. I took little hops down the old concrete steps to where they were little less than my height. Then whilst holding the comforting and seemingly everlasting hand of my mother, I proceeded with her to the car and we drove off.