05-17-2010

Start Fiction:

He entered the house, calling out, hesitantly, for Rebbecca. It was quite odd she should leave her front door open, home or not; Derek's heart thumped in his ears, his palms sweaty. He felt as though he was trespassing. He had arrived but a few minutes early for their afternoon date, he hoped she had not forgotten. But the open door...

Thump.

Derek heard the noise come from upstairs; he called, his voice strained, weak. He was not the manliest of men, but merely a petite version of a young man. The romance of his love for Rebbecca gave him some courage; for the moment.

Another thump.

A muffled scream. His courage was wavering.

Having never been in the upstairs of Rebbecca's home, Derek rushed, cautiously, up the stairs, calling out for Rebbecca as he reached the landing. Another muffled scream came from the rear bedroom.

Silence.

As his heart pounded in his ears, his brow growing moist, Derek moved down the hall towards the rear bedroom. All the other doors down the hall were closed, but the rear bedroom door was slightly ajar, allowing Derek to see a sliver of the room. With the first few steps, fists clinching, shadows moved across the bedroom wall, he called out again. No response; the shadows stopped.

As he crept closer, he saw a pair of feet, legs on the floor; he could tell by her shoes, it was Rebbecca. She was face down. He stepped faster, rushing to her aide, pushing open the bedroom door and greeted with the site of blood; a huge pool of blood. He called out to her, knelt at her side, seeing blood ooze from her neck; her eyes open. He felt for a pulse. Weak, erratic.

Behind him Derek heard the door squeak, footsteps racing down hall, the steps. He lept up in a rage, chasing after the intruder; however, the intruder was out the door before Derek reached the top of the stairs. No need to pursue, Rebbecca needed him. He raced back to Rebbecca's side, whispering sweet words, apologizing, assuring her her journey ahead was to heaven; he had heard that the last sense to fade was one's hearing. He wanted her to be at peace, comforted as she slipped away completely.

He held her hand, caressed her face for several minutes. Checking her pulse, he found none. She was gone. Derek sobbed. They were to head to the river for a late picnic lunch and discuss their upcoming wedding. Two years of courting occurred before Derek was able to ask for her hand, yet in many ways they were already married, just living at separate addresses.

Now, all was lost, his bride slaughtered like an animal by an unknown, cowardly figure. His rage boiled, his heart turned black.

Vengeance would be his; one day.

End Fiction.