|How Annie Died (standard:horror, 755 words)|
|Author: Amanda_C_Brown||Added: Jan 31 2002||Views/Reads: 1982/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|a muderous story and the story of how two young women comit crime to be better off in life...|
I told my sister that Annie died. I just left it at that. She looked me in the eyes and I had to look away. She screamed at me. “How? How, Sara, How?” and I screamed back “I don’t know how!” But really I did. I was the only one who knew. Well, my Aunt Sara did too and it wasn’t any big secret with Rory and Comet, Annie’s cats. Aunt Sara was only two years older than me and I was only ten. Most ten year olds don’t know how the story of murder goes; but Aunt Sara and I did. Annie had too, but she was gone now, and she’d been well over ten. My sister was seven, and her mind wasn’t open to such things. The cold body of the victim lying in a pool of blood. Most ten year olds have never seen that. But Aunt Sara, Annie and I had. Well, Annie had taken the life of my cousin; Aunt Sara’s nephew, Russy. But Russy had been seventeen. Annie had wanted a forbidden sexuality from him. Russy told Annie she was a pig and that he’d never do anything of the sort with her. So, on Christmas Eve, when Russy was asleep, she killed him. Annie was sick, but I’d never guessed that sick. Annie killed him with a knife; slit his throat and wrists. Aunt Sara had watched from the shadows, as we’d been instructed, as Annie performed the deed, which killed my best friend and cousin in his uneasy sleep. I don’t blame him for being restless that night as Annie crept ever so close, with stealth, to his bedside. Aunt Sara and I watched as the warm red wine spilled from the inflictions, and nearly began to fog the room, as he’d left his window open and the room was quite cold. Cold? That’d never describe it as I sat there with Aunt Sara and watched Annie. Annie told us someday we might use her skills; it would prove so later on. But, as Aunt Sara and I later were told; it easy, too easy, to kill. I had seen this the night Annie killed Russy and the next night when she killed his brother, Geoff. A year later, she killed my sister who was three, Nina, who’d caught Scarlet Fever. Maybe Annie was scared; scared that her soul could never be saved and so she took revenge on innocent souls. I don’t know exactly why Annie’s mind was so twisted, and I don’t know if she’d had intentions thereafter. I figured she’d kill me and Aunt Sara one day, if we decided not to follow in her footsteps as she’d told us to. And why Annie never got busted I still can’t figure out. Aunt Sara and I’ve been dumb founded forever about that. They say that the room in which a victim dies becomes cold at the moment of death, but that wasn’t true for Annie’s death, or I’ve heard. The myths circulating around this beat-up old ghost town say that it was a hot summer evening and the blood didn’t fog like Russy’s had, but it steamed and boiled. Maybe it’s an over exaggeration, but maybe it isn’t quite. Annie was killed in the same manner as Russy but they found a deep, bleeding infliction in her back. It was a roughly dug heart with the letter “S” in it. No one but me and Aunt Sara have a clue as to what that “S” stands for. Well, Annie, probably in Hell by now, knows too. And I hope that wound heals over and a harsh, rough scar is left in it’s place; of the heart and “S”. Maybe Aunt Sara and I’ll figure on a different ending than Annie. But now I’ve got two sisters to take care of, and Aunt Sara and I live with Grandma May. Grandma is the only one I might ever tell; my little sister is the last one. My sister loved Annie like I never would be able to; but then again, my sister never knew of Annie’s well kept secrets and her twisted mind. Annie was a perfectly normal mom when otherwise noted. Yet, with me and Aunt Sara, she was a demon unleashed from hell; a cold blooded murderess who’s twisted mind found her fate in the end intangible. Her final odyssey was her own; a cold murder of a summer eve, in which two chosen heirs deemed themselves otherwise and took their only victim. Tweet
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