Odd People, Odd Stories.

Odd People, Odd Stories.

These are originals by me. Do not copy unless you have my permission. Thank you.

published on April 306 reads 5 readers 0 not completed

What a Pleasure

         Rosette, AKA Rose, was an odd little girl. For one, she had the sheer pleasure of pain and suffering. Yet, outside of the safety in her room, she was a pleasant, well mannered maiden; at only the age of thirteen. She enjoyed school, unlike the rest of the students. And sometimes daydreamed in class. She's suffered many diseases, and mental attacks. She is sickly, and is on the verge of dying. She hides it from her mother, and the rest of society. She woke up the morning of Friday, the thirteenth... Oddly enough, her lucky day. She woke up in the darkness of the early morning, everyone in town but her asleep. She walked into her kitchen and rubbed her eyes. She carried a dim lighted lantern with her. She pranced over to the knives and cut open her arm with one. She smiled and sniffed the blood from the deep wound. She laughed quietly at this and simply squeezed her blood into a bowl and then stitched up her arm. She inhaled the scent of blood again and rinsed off the knife. She then sipped up the blood from the bowl, now stained red, and yawned. Rose went up to her room, bowl in hand, and tossed it out the window. But wait, there was another being awake. She had tossed the glass bowl onto their head, and the glass killed them. A bloody person on the sidewalk. Rose laughed and jumped out her window. She plopped on the cement and looked down at her own cuts, and the dead woman. The woman had fair skin, and silky blond hair. The color of her dress soothed Rose, a soft pink, a beautiful color.  Rose laughed in her maniac way, and ripped the head off the body. Rose squeezed the blood into her palm and licked it, delicately. She smiled, and hopped inside. Rose grabbed some plastic wrap, and wrapped the head in it. She stuffed it under her bed, and went back outside, to dispose of the body. She swept up all the glass, and threw it in the bushes. She dragged the bloody body into the grass, and buried it.

        She went into her bathroom to wash up, when she looked into the mirror and saw a bloody little girl, named Rose, that just killed someone with a blood stained bowl. She laughed loudly, witch awoke all of the neighbors. She locked her bathroom door, and tore open one of her cuts. It hurt, and tears stung her eyes, yet she smiled at the pain. She had wounded her leg when jumping out the window, and then she tore off her leg, knee down. She squeezed the blood from the leg everywhere, and found a sewing kit in a cabinet. By now, the bathroom was literally painted in blood, and her mother started pounding on the door. Screaming for the life of her beloved child. Her mother fell to her knees and cried. Then blood started dripping out the door, and her mother saw it, crying harshly into her hands. Rose heard the crying, and went from her maniac stage, to her soft stage. She used the sewing kit to stitch up her wounds, and used some medical supplies to wrap up her wounds and clean them. She washed all the blood off, and heard, yet again, the weeping of her mother. Rose was all cleaned up, and so was the bathroom. Rose unlocked the door and fell into her mother's arms, weeping harshly, like her mother.
        
        her mother knew about her mental attacks, and worried sickly about her. Rose found her mother dead outside of the door.

        Her mother had committed suicide. Because, if her daughter died, she would die too; to be with her daughter. Her mother had a knife in her chest, and her heart was in her lap. Her head was tilted backwards, blood dripping from a crack in her head. Rose took her mother's dead body to the cematary and buried her loving mother.
        
        After that, Rose went insane and killed like crazy.






        She became Mother Rose.
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