In English, we had to write a horror story. Our English teacher is a complete scaredy cat. So of course, I tried to write the most terrifying horror story a girl my age could get way with without being called into the principal’s office. Anyway, here is my horror story. Enjoy!
We had to design covers for our story. Thank you to the obliging eye that was vastly edited using photoshop. It was a painful process.
The Demon lurked in the shadows and waited. The women walking home were spotlighted by the streetlights, all of them obliviously falling under The Demon’s judgment. He was salivating over which lovely lady he would spend the night with.
The Demon wondered when he’d become so predatory. He smiled as he thought back to nine years ago, when he was not The Demon.
She was beautiful. Blonde hair fell over her shoulders, her blue eyes full of uncorrupted innocence and her lips sensuous and inviting. Angelina was the epitome of perfection. She was only 19 – fresh out of school. Luke wondered what she was doing in Paris with a dark-minded 22-year-old like him. All Luke knew was that he wanted her. He wanted to be the one to take her innocence.
“When are you going to introduce me to your parents?” she whined. “I’ve been waiting so long to meet them!”
Luke cast his eyes downward. “I… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Because I –” Should he tell her? Not yet. “I just don’t think it’s time yet.”
“I just don’t think it’s time yet.” The Demon watched a couple fighting as they walked home. She was saying that she didn’t believe they were ready for a family while he was desperate for a child. “When then?” he snarled. “When?”
“When you get a job, when you stop drinking, when I know that there’ll be a job for me when I come back to work, when we can afford a baby…”
“God, you’re impossible!”
The Demon watched as they fought, recognising the man’s anger issues. He reminded him of his father.
His father was The Devil. He enjoyed causing trouble for people and making their lives Hell. Luke had tried to lessen his father’s influence on him. He’d even shortened his name from Lucifer to Luke. That was before he’d become The Demon. The Demon thought back to when he’d started to become who he was. It was a while ago now.
It all started when he was 16. A boy born to be bad, Luke had come in late after stealing a bottle of gin. His parents were fighting again.
“You can’t just let him wander around the neighbourhood, taking things and beating people up. What if he gets caught? What if someone has enough of him and beats him up?”
“Then he can handle himself. He is my son, and he’s merely following his destiny!”
“Ah, shut up woman!” Luke watched in horror as his father closed his fist and punched his wife. He watched as he did it again. And again. And again.
His mother scrambled around, looking for something to defend herself with, as The Devil towered over her. She eventually grabbed hold of a knife, but it was no use. In less than a minute, his father had overpowered her. Her blood pooled around Luke’s feet, creeping through his sneakers and soaking his socks.
The Demon has always remembered that day. He remembered how his father had calmly cleaned up the blood, and how he was forced to bin his clothes. His mother’s body was burnt in the backyard the next day. He remembered how he had gathered up the ashes to make a makeshift burial.
The Demon was brought back to reality by a girl walking past. Those eyes, that hair. A pang of sadness hit him as he remembered that it couldn’t possibly be Angelina. He’d been there when she died.
He went back to when he was 22. His father was sitting with his back to his son.
“I know about the girl.”
“You want to marry her?”
He sighed. “Lucifer. Take a look at yourself. You’re my son. You can’t possibly marry her.”
“I will do it, even if I don’t have your blessing.”
“Thought you might say that.” A large armchair spun round to reveal Angelina, bound and gagged. Her eyes widened as The Devil clicked his fingers. Flames engulfed her and soon, she was Angelina no more. Luke watched as she was murdered by his father. Just like his mother.
The Demon constantly thought back to that day. He watched as a buxom bombshell walked past his hiding spot as he reminisced the repercussions of that event with pleasure.
He’d crept into his father’s room, where he lay defenceless beneath the sheets. From underneath his cloak, he pulled out a large cleaver. He thought back to his mother and the smell of her bloodied body, turning into ash in a matter of hours. He thought back to Angelina, the final look of terror on her face as she realised she was about to die. Two defenceless women. Dead.
He looked at his father. Without any emotion, Luke swung his arm and butchered his father. One, two, three blows, and he refused to stop. He enjoyed the sound of bones snapping at his touch. He enjoyed the sight of his father’s mangled body. He enjoyed the feel of the cleaver in his hand. He enjoyed the smell of blood on the sheets. He enjoyed the way he could almost taste his father’s pain.
After that night, there was nothing left for Luke. Suspicion would fall onto him, and he couldn’t allow that. He’d shed his identity, the person he was. He’d became a shadow of himself.
From that moment on, he’d become The Demon.
His father hadn’t been his last victim. He would use women, for his own needs, his own pleasure before leaving them, throats cut, lives gone. It wouldn’t be until much later that he realised he was no better than his father.
But it was too late now. He’d turned to crime, and there was no going back. He enjoyed the adrenaline of murder, the high that powerless women gave him.
The Demon watched as an attractive brunette strutted past. He crept out from the shadows and followed her home. He’d found his prey for the night.
So obviously the formatting isn’t that brilliant (damn you, WordPress!), but I am interested in what you think, so leave a comment! (God, I sound like a YouTuber…)
Well, thank you for reading and I hope that you have a lovely rest of your life!