The Night Time Killer - Original Writing

"I’m sorry" I screamed, my voice cracking and the voices silenced, as if considered my

    “CCCRRREEEAAAKKK!” The sound of the front door scratching on the wood broke my hypnotic trance. Looking into the blackness of the night, I search for the only source of light in the room. Staring at the glowing light of my alarm clock, I attempt to form an explanation for why one of my parents has left the house. Suddenly, the deafening roar of my father’s truck blasts through the silence. I stumble to my window trying to catch a glimpse of the midnight rider who was vanishing into the darkness. Anxiously awaiting the return of the shadowy figure, I gaze out the window for what felt like an eternity until the luminous light of the truck penetrates the pitch-black night. Struggling to make out faces, I recognize my father standing next to my oldest brother’s friend. I question why my father has allowed this troubled teenager to invade our home in the middle of the night. Forcing myself to suppress the hundreds of questions racing through my mind, I try to slip back into my deep slumber. Instantly, my world began to rumble and my ears were impacted with the booming sound of a woman saying the same obscured line over and over. All of the sudden, I realize the voice is my mom telling me to wake up. I open my eyes and see both my parents standing over me. Before I even utter a word, they tell me that Caleb’s friend, Jake, will be staying with us for a while. Before I even have a chance to protest, they were out the door, and I was left there to deal with my mixed emotions. Of course, I would have to confront this miscreant living in the same house of me, but how to approach him was still lost to me. I decided to go straight up to him and ask him what he was doing here. I hiked up the staircase expecting to find a spawn of satan, but all I found was a tall, dark-haired, brown eyed boy. “You must be Caleb’s little brother, Kade,” he

with tears in my eyes I left with my black hoodie, phone, headphones and a screwdriver in back pocket. I peeked into the hallway. I looked to my right. My grandparents’ door was closed as usual. I looked to my left. The light under the bathroom door illuminated the dark hallway. The shadow is large a list names go off in my head. When I hear the shower water go on, I know who exactly is in there. “Jorge.” I whispered to myself. I look a bit further to the left. The pitch black doorway to my parent’s room was darker than usual like a black hole only allowing my father’s loud snores escape. I tipped-toed into the livingroom. I passed by Jorge’s mattress and walked to the front door. I gripped the doorknob and realized the front door could give away my location to my sleeping family with its creakiness. I retreat backwards into the kitchen’s light. I felt the butterflies in my stomach find their way to my throat. I had no idea what I was going to do. I plug in my headphones and played my NiteTimezJamz3 Playlist to help me relax. I quickly braided my hair and stuffed into my hoodie. I quickly but quietly made my way towards the backyard.

The weekend approached fast, and the fall air in San Diego County was becoming crisper in the mornings. By this time, depending on the elevation in San Diego County, there was frost upon the leaves of grass that were still green as ever. Daytime temperatures were still reaching seventy to seventy-five degrees on average. It was Friday of that weekend, and Clarissa had told Johnny that she would meet him, all dolled up, at the cocktail lounge of the ‘Lyndham Hotel,’ which was just above the Oceanside Pier. Clarissa arrived first at the new and glamorous hotel cocktail lounge. It was a busy evening, and there were quite a few people already scattered about the lounge. As she walked into the lounge’s entrance, her look and presence turned many heads. It was exactly seven in the evening when Clarissa strutted herself into this establishment looking and feeling her best. She rested up two hours before this event so she would have as much energy as she could. The heads turned. Men and women dressed in conservative cocktail wear examined Clarissa from head to toe. From her toes, she was wearing silver strapped, open toe, high heels. Her toenails were painted red. As one looked from her feet to her legs, her skinny legs shined from the lotion she applied to them. Right below her knee caps, there was the base of her cocktail dress. The cocktail dress she picked out was that of a pure white color. The dress consisted of a slight imprinted design within it; it must have been a faint

Iris sat alone in her empty apartment. Peeking down at her feet as they dangled over the edge of the pink couch, she thought back to when she and her mother had first moved here. The previous owners left their couch behind when they left. She was afraid to even stand near it for fear of what might be lurking beneath the lumpy, stained cushions. Horrifying images of sitting down and being stabbed by a syringe, or bitten by a rat, or having a giant cockroach creep up her arm flashed through Iris ' little mind whenever she layed eyes on it. But now this couch was her place now, it was where she would sit to watch movies or cuddle up when she was scared. And more and more frequently it was the place where she slept.

He awoke with a gasp. Heart pounding in his ears, his eyes darted around the dark room. His breath came in short, rapid pants, his thoughts were fuzzy. Cold sweat beaded on his skin and soaked his tawny hair, making it stick to his forehead. The damp sheets twisted around his legs. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room. There was his desk with a small, messy mountain of homework that need to be finished, his closet, and the familiar bare walls. A little light trickled in through gaps of the blackout curtains. With a groan, Leon untangled himself from the sheets and  dropped his head back onto his pillow. He twisted his neck to face the digital clock on the nightstand.

had been raining for a week in the city of Berlin. Thomas looked out his bedroom window at the passerby 's wearing their yellow rain coats, holding tattered umbrellas above their heads. The gray clouds hung over head and showed no sign of blowing over. Thomas sighed as he slung his legs over the opposite side of his twin bead and slipped into his monster truck slippers. He was droopy already from the weather and didn 't think his Saturday would be much fun. He threw his hand over his silver bedroom door knob and opened the door. The smell of fresh blueberry pancakes, syrup, and bacon filled his nostrils and instantly chased away his mopey mood. With a hop in his step he cheerily bounced into the kitchen where he found his mom hard at

I wake up to screams in the night time. Screams I’ve never heard before in times of war. No no. This was much worse. I hear my friend come in my room and wake me up. “We are under attack. I go outside to see no other than the Trojans themselves attacking us in the ruins of Athens. They had come from Troy. There was havoc as I watch my brothers die by flaming arrows and gruesome impalement. I’ve never seen this before; I scream and pray to the gods to make it stop and I immediately wake up in my adobe quarters and realize it was just a nightmare. It was early in the morning so I decided not to fall back asleep in fear that my fears will come alive once again.

Sophia watched as he walked towards the dining room. His walk was unchanged with their encounter and she wondered how many other girls who talked to with such familiarity.

“May I ask what happened?” Alex asked, his hand still tightly gripping mine as I practically pulled him down the stairs.

Waking up to the smell of strawberry jam and toast coming from the kitchen, Dan looks over at his clock to see that it is 7:30. Forcing himself up, he throws on a set of clothes and tiptoed down the stairs to be sure not to wake up Lisa. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, Dan sees both his parents, father at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, and mother at the counter spreading the jam on the mountain of toast beside her. The quiet morning is comfortable and pleasant.

Bright green leaves weaved around each other in the warm breeze. Angela and I wandered through a field of green grass. Our strides silent against the soft ground while the waist high strands of grass tickled our sides.

As I sit inside this cold and dingy home I hear the doorbell from what seems miles away. Making my way to the door I hear a loud voice from the other side of the door “Jake, I finally made it!”. I open the door and she continues “the ride was horrible! Didn’t think I was gonna make it.” This was the last thing I wanted to hear. Deep inside I wished she hadn’t make it. I felt anger and disappointment seeing her. I held it in and gave her a half grind. We stood at the door with what seemed like a century. Her voice then snapped me back to reality. She said, “Are you doing to let me in silly?” I replied “yes, yes of course!”. As we walked together pass the large living room into the kitchen all the memories of this house rushed me. I remember the year she and I played throughout this house. How happy our company our grandparents. Entering the kitchen she leans over, placing her arms around me and giving me a huge hug. Her warmth was what I had sought after for months. Her hugs felt as if our grandmother was once again hugging me. I smiled for the first time in months. At that moment I want to hold her and sob. Although, my resentment and anger didn’t allow me to. She then turned to the house and said “this house feels so warm and full of life.” At that moment I wanted to reply how that could be? We have lost the person that would make this house feel alive. Yet, I kept my mouth shut. She continued “grandma would be so proud of you.” “You were always her favorite”. Then the

A loud thunder woke Shifa up, it was very dark. Along with the thunder, she could clearly hear the regular reoccurrence of a heartbeat. Where was she? it 's not like she was uncomfortable, then why couldn 't she move her hand, it was stuck somewhere. Last she remembered, she was hopelessly sitting on the floor of her room looking at the raindrop from the window, but nothing was constraining her at that time. She tried looking around, only to realize that she was on Azlaan 's bed, her head on his chest and his arms holding her whole body in his frame, as if sheltering her from an alien threat. He was softly snoring, oblivion to the fact that Shifa was wide awake.

I had glanced over at my mom, her breaths were shallow and light. Her eyes were closed and her hair was still soaked from the shower. She tapped my Dad on the hand,