Painted Black

[Man_with_a_killer's_mind]

It was Kenny’s first night in the new house, the house which he and his parents had always dreamed of. He opened the door and flipped the switch on the wall to turn on the bright ceiling light. His room was completely furnished with all his old stuff including his bed and computer. Being sixteen years old and the son of an Air Force general, he had gotten used to moving around. His father promised him that someday they would settle down in one place. Somehow, he knew that this new house would be the one.

Kenny sat down at his desk and started his computer. The screen flashed by with gibberish tests and startup logo and then went straight to the desktop. As he clicked the icon to start up his word processor, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight. His back felt as if a thousand stares were piercing it. He quickly turned his chair around only to find that there was nothing there, yet he continued to feel the stares.

When his word processor had finally started he opened the file which contained the beginning of his latest short story. For about six years Kenny had been writing short stories based on his experiences in the many lands he had visited. He had quite a following on several internet forums and was planning on creating his own website soon. His fingers began gracefully moving about the keyboard as the words appeared on the screen. Without warning the screen flickered with a bright red light. Kenny immediately turned off the monitor and turned his chair around. This time he knew that someone was watching him.

Though he knew curiosity would eventually be the downfall of mankind, the knowledge didn’t keep him from walking toward his closet. He heard a panicked scratching coming from the other side of the flimsy wooden door. Slowly, as if to keep whatever was inside at bay, he opened the closet door. What sat inside was so appalling it nearly made him loose his lunch. On the floor in a pool of vomit sat a boney woman in a long, ragged wedding gown. As if every move she made was painful, the woman turned her head toward Kenny to reveal a horribly disfigured face. He couldn’t help but turn away and vomit on the floor. The skin of her face looked as if it had been torn or burned off and there were no teeth left in her rancid mouth.

“What’s wrong, boy!?” The woman screamed angrily. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“No…No way. You’re not real, just a fucking figment of my imagination.” Kenny tried to convince himself that the woman was not actually sitting in front of him, but he failed.

“You’re going to feel what it’s like to be ridiculed and laughed at!” She screamed.

With that, the woman slowly stood up from the floor and Kenny could hear her bones cracking and rubbing together. He stood frozen in fear. The frail old lady suddenly charged forward with great speed hitting Kenny, throwing him through the room and onto his back on the bed. He couldn’t move a muscle, no matter how hard he tried. For the first time, he got a good look at the woman standing up. Her dress was covered with dirt and dried blood and she smelled of rotting flesh. She walked closer to him and pulled a rusty knife from beneath her discolored dress. As she brought the knife close to Kenny’s face, he noticed that the walls were beginning to melt like wax . The first layer of paint oozed off the wall to reveal a hidden layer. The walls were now jet black and something was written on them in what looked like crusted blood. It was a list of names, maybe twenty or thirty of them.

“Mom!! Help me! Mom!!” Kenny screamed for his mother as the woman lowered the sharp yet rusty knife to his face.

She sliced his flesh from his chin all the way to his forehead in a small arc. Kenny began to cry out in pain as blood quickly oozed from the cut. The woman dug her fingers into the wound and ripped half of the skin on his face off. Blood splattered all over the floor and bed as Kenny watched in shock as the woman disappeared in to nothingness. His father charged into the room with his mother trailing. They stopped where they stood and stared in disbelief at Kenny’s mutilated face, and then glanced down at his hand which held the rusty knife.

Kenny stared at the list of names on the wall and watched as his name was added to it with his own blood. He could take no more pain and could loose no more blood. As his mind grew weary and the room grew dark he could think of nothing else but his willingness to die rather than live with the ridicule he would endure.

He woke up in a completely white room with a large mirror on the front wall. He knew exactly what he wanted to do. Without saying a word, he walked to the mirror and rammed his head into it, cracking the glass. He rammed his head again and again until finally, he was lying on the ground in a pool of his blood. The room grew dark again, but this time he knew he would not wake up.

One of my earlier stories. What'd you think?