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24 February 2008 @ 11:26 pm
Some Things Never Change  
I finally did it. I finally killed the old bat thought Charles as he stared at the bloody corpse of his grandmother. Charles stood there staring at her. He was memorized with how still she was now. And he thought how he would never have to hear her say those things that were not true again. Those things that she would say ever since he was 8 years of age after his parents died and he had to live with her. He would no longer have to hear those things. Those memories were over. It was all over.

A smile crept across Charles face. Charles was now a man. Charles finally took things in is own hands. He was no longer going to be the clumsy, bed-wetting idiot that she always said she was. She was gone and she had no more control over him.

As Charles was standing in the darkened room, walking around the bed trying to capture every view of his sweet revenge to store in his memory and cherish forever he thought about how much she deserved what she got. He was only a little kid. His parents died in a car accident when he was eight. They were not perfect, but he knew they loved him. So what if they drank too much, so what if they did some drugs, so what if they neglected him a little, in the end he knew that they loved him. When is parents died, Charles was put into foster care for a while. He stayed with this perfect family. They were so perfect; it was like a storybook. Charles would always remember them, and regret how he did not realize their kindness until later. One day the social worker came and told his foster parents that they found his maternal grandmother. That she was willing to take Charles and it would be for the best since she had more than enough money to take care of him, and she was family after all.

Charles remembered how excited he was to meet this mysterious grandmother. He wondered why he never knew of her before, but being only eight years old he did not know better. He imagined a sweet old lady who would bake him cookies and tell him stories before he went to bed, but he was wrong.

Charles decided that he was satisfied with the scene and it was now time to clean up. He knew he had to be very calm and very smart at this point. He knew that it took real smarts and a real man to clean up his mess. Charles had this planned. He had been preparing this operation for weeks. He had cleared a spot in the basement. At night he would chip away at the cement and whenever the old witch was away he would really work. Luckily for him, she was now confined to a walker so she never really found the desire to risk the stairs into the basement. If she had she would notice a hole in the cement and disturbed earth that would eventually be her resting place.

The sheets just had to go thought Charles. Charles decided to make this easier on himself he would just wrap her up in the sheets and maybe some others and drag her down stairs. But then he thought that maybe he should use some trash bags. One could never be too careful with these sorts of operations. Charles meticulously wrapped his grandmother up. To him her corpse all wrapped up was almost like a Christmas gift, he had been dreaming about for years. Charles drug her down the stairs, thought the hall, and down the basement stairs, to the place where she belong. Charles then put her right next to his hole, which he had lovingly created, and gave her a fierce kick. Then Charles decided he better burry her and lay down the cement. He thought that should be done first since the cement will have to harden, and while the cement sealed her in he could finish the rest of his work.

As Charles was laying down the cement, he remembered how his dreams were smashed. The social worker had picked him up from his foster families house. He was all packed and excited to finally see grandma. He remembered how far they drove. It seemed like every mile there were less and less houses until the social worker and him were driving down this tree lined dirt road. After about 20 minutes of driving on this road, the social worker stopped in front of this rusty gate, he got out opened the gate, got back into the car and they now drove up this new dirt road. Not long a house came into view. It was a very normal house and Charles thought it was the perfect house for a grandmother, particularly his grandmother, to have. Charles leaned forward in his seat trying to catch every detail of the house. The house was white with wood paneling. It had two stories. To him it was almost like the white house. It was elegant with the roman columns outside and comfortable with the swing. He noticed how perfect the roses were outside. The bushes were perfectly trimmed, and not a leaf was on the lawn despite the fact that it was fall. The house was immaculate.

When they reached the house Charles could not help himself. As soon as the car stopped he unlocked his car door ran up the steps and knocked on his new homes door. He was ecstatic. He was yelling, “Grandma Grandma I am home.” Eventually he heard the door unbolt and slowly open. And he looked at his grandmother’s face. Instead of a smile it wore a frown. He noticed how tight her hair was pulled back, how sharp her features were. How perfectly starched was her dress. Then the social worker walked up, and the frown disappeared, and was replaced with a smile. But, Charles could sense the frown under the surface. The social worker was pleased. And he soon left Charles alone with that woman. Once he left the smile disappeared or actually showed its true nature and a cruel upward twist on her smile now appeared on her face.

She then told him how he was worthless. How he was nothing. That his parents were scum and thus he was scum and that he should always be thankful for her immense pity. There was a cruel twinkle in her eye. Charles never felt this horrible about himself before once she showed him to his room he just laid on his bed crying, thinking how did god create such and atrocity as him. It was that night the bed-wetting started and that was Charles’ life for the last 20 years.

Charles studied his handy work. The cement was a masterpiece he decided. He then went up stairs and carefully cleaned all the spots of blood he could find. He then decided that he should take a shower, shave and get himself ready for the first night of freedom. He was going to go out and have a night on the town while the cement worked its magic and sealed his grandmother off from him forever.

In the shower Charles never realized how alive the warm water made him feel. He closed his eyes held his head back and just enjoyed the feeling of being alive. He was thankful for the feeling of sensation. Charles was in the shower until the warm water ran out. He grabbed a towel dried off, and shaved. Then he noticed himself in the mirror. There was a man there; he was no longer a little boy. A man was staring at him: a man in control, now of both his past and future. Charles smiled and thought that a night on the town, going to a bar, a strip club, a night of truly living, would show her. It would shove all the things she had said in her face.

Charles got dressed and got into his car and drove to the local bar. He walked into the bar sat down and asked the bar tender for some beer. He then tried to start a conversation with the guy next to him. But the guy looked at him funny, he asked what the fuck was in his system to make him so jittery. Charles thought that no way could he be jittery. Then he looked down at his leg and it was shaking. He then noticed how fast he was talking. How much he leaned in towards the counter. How uptight and his posture was. He thought that he probably looked guilty. Then he heard his grandmothers voice in the back of his head saying “I told you were a good for nothing idiot, you look guilty and in the end I will win and you will rot in jail because you are worthless.” Then warm urine ran down Charles’ pants and formed a puddle under his stool.
 
 
 
penseur_nevrose on February 25th, 2008 04:10 pm (UTC)
Did this fulfill the prompt? Explain how so, or why not:
Yes, it covered trauma and how the character reacted to and carried the plot because of the trauma.

Standout parts:
"the bed-wetting started." One of the associated traits of a psychopath! You put that in intentionally, didn't you? I didn't even think he was yet, subtle, and then the end, and it's more true. Bravissimo!

Needing improvement:
Wee bit of gramatical/spelling errors. One I remember, "dragged" not "drug," at least I think it is...?

General comments:
I enjoyed muchly, reminded me of Norman Bates/Red Dragon. Very good mood setting, and best part of all, I like how you stir sympathy with the character before you reveal he's probably psychotic. It causes an odd mix of emotions at the end.
leoin on February 26th, 2008 07:43 pm (UTC)
Did this fulfill the prompt? Explain how so, or why not:
Yess, and creatively so.

Standout parts:
It seemed very real, very spooky, very sad. So in that way the whole thing is standout. The end was especially startling.

Needing improvement:
Grammar and punctuation, etc.

General comments:
I agree with Michael - very Red Dragon (which was amazing btw lol). I liked it a lot and it had a definite Barbara feel to it but still was 'new'.

Edited at 2008-02-26 07:43 pm (UTC)
satori_in on February 29th, 2008 06:38 am (UTC)
Did this fulfill the prompt? Explain how so, or why not: I'd say so.

Standout parts: The end for sure. It's almost as though he transformed before our eyes. Nice.

Needing improvement: I wish you had more hints in the text that he was psychotic. I mean, killing your own grandma is pretty intense, but I would have liked more. Like when he lived in the foster home. Instead of regretting that he never appreciated them, I think it would be more likely that he would detest them for his own inability to fit in because he's a bit crazy.

General comments: Good stuff. The sense of revealing you have is really good. Starting off with a situation where the main character has just killed their own grandma forces us to immediately ask why. Very useful for drawing us into the story.
alondra_del_solalondra_del_sol on March 7th, 2008 01:07 am (UTC)
Did this fulfill the prompt? Explain how so, or why not:
I definately think so. It doesn't get much more traumatic than that.

Standout parts:
As a psych major and James Patterson buff I could totally see the ending happening, and he goes on to become a major psycho.

Needing improvement:
A few grammar things like was mentioned, and hmm...I'm not sure. I think it needed a little more of something. I felt like something was missing the action seemed almost...formulaic? I mean he doesn't seem to have it planned out really, but yet its very step by step. I'd break up the action so its not so 'and then this, and then that' etc. Which obviously you didn't over use those terms I'm just being general.

General comments:
Overall I really enjoyed. I like my horror stories. :)