Every twelve days I go on a hankering hunt to find my next helpless victim, to fulfil my bloodthirsty cravings. This time I didn’t have to go far. Her beady dark eyes were showing no signs of life. Her once white shirt was now covered with a thick coat of blood which left a smudged trail following behind her heavy hopeless body as I dragged her down through the room. She had to go.
Ethel, my seven-year-old niece has been living with me for ten days since her mother disappeared mysteriously, or so she confidently assumed. I was Ethel’s only family member left.
It was just after seven pm when I just finished cleaning up the dinner table when Ethel asked anxiously, “Uncle Alfred, do you think they will find mum?”
“Of course. I’m sure she will turn up soon. Before you know it you will be back home with your mum perhaps in a different house. Give it a couple days.” I said cautiously being careful not to warn her of her ruthless fate awaiting her. “I think it is time for you to get to bed.”
The wooden floorboards creaked like the chariot wheels of Satan as I followed Ethel down the eerie dark passageway. While I was tucking Ethel in bed, a large bang came from the basement.
Ethel startled “What was that uncle, it sounded like it was from downstairs.”
“Oh do not worry about it, I am sure it was nothing” I uttered, as an audacious smile grew from my cheeks.
“Uncle Alfred,” Ethel said.
“Yes,” I answered.
“I cannot sleep at night,” Ethel said in a timid voice “I have been having nightmares.”
“Nightmares? Nightmares about what dear” I prompted, pretending like I cared.
“It is mum, I have been having nightmares about mum, she...” Ethel paused briefly “she is chained up, with blood dripping from her neck, screaming for help, can you please help her.”
“It is only nightmares, Ethel. I am sure your mum is fine.” However, I was the one. I was the one putting those ghastly nightmares in her head. “Get some rest I will see you in the afternoon goodnight.”
“Goodnight Uncle Alfred” Ethel said calmly after I reassured her that her mother was fine.
I rose from my coffin at 5:30 pm eleven days since Ethel moved in. As I began cooking Ethel’s last meal a horrendous smell was coming from Ethel’s right pocket. I asked her curiously “What is in your pocket, Ethel.”
She withdraw a large piece of garlic bread and asked me enthusiastically “could we please have this with our spaghetti, Clara from school let me try some, and I loved it so she said I could bring some home.”
I took one glimpse of the object then immediately shielded my face and screamed aloud “get rid of that appalling thing now!”
She stood there with an astonished look on her face...