+ Fictions from an aspiring teen.
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Blog name: Alluring Fiction
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owner: Creator [Tsuki]
Ver.: Two
Followers: Two
Sunday, 8 June 2014 at 03:11 with 0 comment(s)
I Did It For You/She's Mine/Done
The only sound that could be heard were the soft tweets of birds, the soft hums of the air conditioner and every once in a while the roar of a car engine driving past. My average looking house was located at the far end of the street, where everyone would never pay attention to. The neighbours all thought that my family were a quiet peaceful bunch – even if we didn’t come to the monthly barbeques very often.
Whenever we did, my family didn’t socialise and party like everyone else. My dad would always drink to his heart’s content and my mum and I would hang around our age group.
Like a lone fish following the school, I would follow the rest of the kids and chase after the cockatoos. Trying to fit in, my mum would have her hand over her mouth or over her chest gossiping about the latest celebrities.
“Have you been looking after yourself?” The usual question came up like a stone being dropped in water, destroying the serene scene. Mum’s usual face would falter slightly but was quickly disguised with a shrug. The housewives would start fussing over her, telling her to look after skin because of the Australian weather while making vegemite sandwiches for the children.
“Don’t worry, I’m just clumsy.” Mum would always say. She wasn’t clumsy though.
I knew all the bruises on mum’s arms and legs weren’t from pure clumsiness. Falling over and accidentally cutting yourself can’t just be the reason why there were dark purple splotches and marks all over her body.
The man who claimed to be my father is the real reason behind it. Nearly every day, this person would throw things at my mum; punches, kicks, strangling. Name it; he’s done it.
Years later, my old man and I were sitting near each other in front of the T.V. watching whatever was on. Excluding the sounds from the T.V, nothing but silence hung in the air. My hand reached for the remote control only for it to get slapped away. “Don’t even think about it boy,” he growled, a threatening tone was evident but I was too preoccupied for it to annoy me. A red mark was forming on my hand.
The T.V. flickered once, twice, before it changed from the cricket show to the nightly news report. “Once again, the mysterious slasher has appeared. A man was found near the alley way at approximately 9:37 PM last night. The man, currently being treated at the Royal Hospital, is the fifth victim this month.  The T.V. continuously flickered as the report continued. “All wounds have been identified to be something small like a pocketknife or a small sharp object. Police is unsure if the slasher is working with an accomplice or solo.” I turned to the man lounging on the sofa with a bottle of VB beer in his hand.
“Hey dad, who do you think the slasher is?” I asked, careful to not let my emotions portray anything.
“How the hell would I know?! Could be some psychopathic girl for all I care.”
“But it could be a guy who probably has some sort of grudge against male adults.”
A fist suddenly landed in my face with a sickening crunch. I could feel something starting to drip. “You dare talk back to me boy?!” He stood above me, gulping all the contents in the bottle with his eagle-like eyes on me. A shocking pain came to my side making me cry out in pain. Rolling to the side, pain shot up when something stabbed me. Blinded with pain, stars appeared behind my eyes. “Just who do you think you are you little piece of shit.” His huge hands grabbed me by the hair, lifting me up. My hands flew everywhere in tiny small fists. A satisfying crack was heard when my fists made contact with his chin. Gravity kicked in and landed on my ass. “You’re going to regret that you fucker.” He raised his hand, his palm forming into a fist.
“Robert! NO!” I knew that voice all too well. Please, no!
Instead of feeling the impact that would’ve sent me sprawled out across the floor, I felt a sickening thud on top of me. More thuds were felt, time after time. I didn’t need to think to know what was happening. “Mum, please, don’t do this.” Love and anguish filled her eyes.
“Move it bitch.” He grabbed her messy brown locks and threw her to the side. Anger bubbled within me, my fists clenching and unclenching. Once more, she threw her body onto the bastard’s raised fist. Her nails dug onto his bicep as though she was hanging for dear life. Another fist flew and this time, it connected with her cheek knocking her unconscious.
My anger burst. I saw red. “You did not just do that you bastard.” All the anger, the hatred that had been suppressed from all the previous years overflowed with such force my whole body shook.
“Huh?” The old man turned and spat in my face. “Whatcha gonna do about it, cunt?” Something inside clicked and my pocket knife was drawn before I knew it. His eyes slowly widened in realisation. “You fucker! You’re that slasher!” he roared. He jumped at me; hands wide open in a groping motion. I side-stepped and kicked his legs, making him fall towards the wall.
“Nah, I’m not.” My lips curved into an arrogant smirk when fear clouded his eyes.
“You… You!” Fear had paralysed him, like a prey being cornered by its predator. My knife was drawn; my prey was in front of me. The tip pierced his skin, blood trickling down his throat.
“You don’t deserve an easy death after all the crap you put me and mum through.” Pressing harder, the person underneath me squirmed.
“I’m sorry, please.” Remorse filled his voice but disgust filled my gut. All this bastard cared about was his own life and not about his wife or his kid.
My hands moved on its own, a gash appeared at his throat. Blood flowed from where the flesh peeked through. A feeling of satisfactory curled my lips upwards.

Groaning from the other side snapped me back into reality. “Oscar, what happened?” A gasp resonated. “Why are you covered in blood?!”
I moved to the side, revealing the man with the cut across his neck and eyes rolled back.
“Y-You monster!” Confusion filled my brain. “How could you?!” She backed towards the wall as though there was a monster in the living room.
“Mum, don’t be scared. It’s me, Oscar, your son.”
“You’re no son of mine!” She screamed. “Give them back!” Gurgles filled the air as she slumped down.
“I did everything for you. I did it for you, mum.” A whisper filled with longing filled the air as I stared into her blank eyes.

Created on: 17 March 2014 
Completed on: 20 March 2014
Word Count: 1,148

Creator: Changed because it was way to dramatic... :|

The only sound that could be heard were the soft tweets of birds, the soft hums of the air conditioner and every once in a while the roar of a car engine driving past. My average looking house was located at the far end of the street, where everyone would never pay attention to. The neighbours all thought that my family were a quiet peaceful bunch – even if we didn’t come to the monthly barbeques very often.
Whenever we did, my family didn’t socialise and party like everyone else. My dad would always drink to his heart’s content and my mum and I would hang around our age group.
Like a lone fish following the school, I would follow the rest of the kids and chase after the cockatoos. Trying to fit in, my mum would have her hand over her mouth or over her chest gossiping about the latest celebrities.
“Have you been looking after yourself?” The usual question came up like a stone being dropped in water, destroying the serene scene. Mum’s usual face would falter slightly but was quickly disguised with a shrug. The housewives would start fussing over her, telling her to look after skin because of the Australian weather while making vegemite sandwiches for the children.
“Don’t worry, I’m just clumsy.” Mum would always say; she wasn’t clumsy though.
I knew all the bruises on mum’s arms and legs weren’t from pure clumsiness. Falling over and accidentally cutting yourself can’t just be the reason why there were dark purple splotches and marks all over her body.
The man who claimed to be my father is the real reason behind it. Nearly every day, this person would throw things at my mum; punches, kicks, strangling. Name it; he’s done it.
Years later, my old man and I were sitting near each other in front of the T.V. watching whatever was on. Excluding the sounds from the T.V, nothing but silence hung in the air. My hand reached for the remote control only for it to get slapped away. “Don’t even think about it, boy,” he growled, a threatening tone was evident but I was too preoccupied for it to annoy me. A red mark was forming on my hand.
The T.V. flickered once, twice, before it changed from the cricket show to the nightly news report. “Once again, the mysterious slasher has appeared. A man was found near the alley way at approximately 9:37 PM last night. The man, currently being treated at the Royal Hospital, is the fifth victim this month.  The T.V. continuously flickered as the report continued. “All wounds have been identified to be something small like a pocketknife or a small sharp object. Police are unsure if the slasher is working with an accomplice or solo.” I turned to the man lounging on the sofa with a bottle of VB beer in his hand.
“Hey dad, who do you think the slasher is?” I asked, careful to not let my emotions portray anything.
“How the hell would I know?! Could be some psychopathic girl for all I care.”
“But it could be a guy who probably has some sort of grudge against male adults.”
“Are you trying to say that I’m stupid?!” He roared. Pain shot through my ear at the intensity and volume of his voice. No complaint or words came out of my mouth, my eyes focusing on the fur ball that sat in the corner of the room.
My mum loved this cat. She said it would always keep her company when I was at school and my dad was doing who knows what. She also said that it was her best friend, someone she could turn to. She had originally named it ‘Orangutan’ after the colour of its fur and because it had unusually long limbs but changed it to Tigger after the bouncing tiger from my childhood T.V show: Winnie the Pooh.
“In other news, the strange deaths of animals on the streets have brought many animal lovers to tears. This mysterious slaughterer has been targeting pets and stray animals alike so make sure to keep your pets indoors at night.” I had grabbed the cat by its cuff and a loud hiss resonated in the room followed by a loud ‘OUCH!’ I chased after the cat, running after it to the small backyard. I caught its orange fluffy tail, watching out for the claws as it tried to scratch me.
 A loud crash from inside and a female scream made me drop what I was doing. “ROBERT! STOP!” My anger bubbled within me, my fists clenching and unclenching as I heard my mum continuously scream. A loud thud could be heard from inside the house followed by the sound of slapping and heavy thumps. My fingers inched towards the item in my pocket. “Please, stop. No more.” Without even thinking I had drawn my pocket knife and grasped it firmly in my right hand. My left hand grasped the door pane tightly to the point my knuckles turned white.
I remained at the door until nothing but silence was heard. All of a sudden, soft crying made me step inside the moment my dad turned the corner. He saw the pocket knife and his lips curled into a smirk. “Are you going to hurt me boy?” he snarled. My anger popped and I ran at him, my arm raised.
Before I could do any harm to him, he stopped me with one hand, grabbed the knife and landed a punch, sending me breathless. I coughed and gasped for the precious air that was knocked out of me. “I’ll be taking this, you ungrateful brat.” He walked upstairs to his room before shutting the door with a loud ‘bang’.
I painfully got up, wincing as I walked to my mum’s side who was crying to the side hugging the cat that had sprinted into the house. A resentful feeling built up in my chest as I watched the scene in front of me. Disgusted, I left the lounge room and went out back where I stayed for the rest of the day.
Night fell with the moon and stars glittering in the midnight sky. I creaked open the door and carefully slipped in, making sure that I avoided the light that slipped through the curtains. My eyes glanced left and right, searching for the object that was taken away a couple of hours earlier. It felt like hours when only a few minutes had passed when my eyes finally landed on the knife that was hidden well in the dark. I picked it up and opened it, staring at the blade, numerous thoughts flooded my head. 
I tip-toed over to the side of the sleeping figure and raised the blade. Hesitation washed over me like a tsunami, making me pocket my blade and slipping back out to search for something else.
I found the sleeping silhouette in the backyard, underneath the light of the full moon. I grabbed the cat and drew my knife, stabbing it in the eye. A loud cry of pain came from the fur ball. To keep it from waking up the whole neighbourhood, I slashed the neck. Bright red blood spurted at me as the body in my hand went limp. “She’s mine, not yours. I’m meant to look after her, not you.” I growled with menace.

Completed on: 27 March 2014
Word Count: 1,234
Creator: Still didn't work.

The only sound that could be heard were the soft tweets of birds, the soft hum of the air conditioner and every once in a while the roar of a car engine driving past. The house with its peeling paint was located at the far end of the street, where no one would pay attention. The neighbours all thought that my family were a quiet, peaceful bunch – even if we didn’t come to the monthly barbeques often.
Whenever we did, my family didn’t socialise and relax like everyone else. My dad would always drink to his heart’s content and my kookaburra-loving mum and I would hang around our respective age groups.
Like a lone fish following the school, I would follow the rest of the kids and chase after flocks of cockatoos. Trying to fit in, my mum would have her hand over her mouth or over her chest gossiping about the latest celebrities.
“Have you been looking after yourself?” The usual question came up like a stone being dropped in water, destroying the serene scene. Mum’s usually calm face would falter slightly but was quickly disguised with a shrug. The housewives would start fussing over her, while making vegemite sandwiches, telling her to look after her skin because of the Australian weather with its blazing sun and scorching heat.
“Don’t worry, I’m just clumsy.” Mum would always say; she wasn’t clumsy though. Not even close.

I knew all the bruises on mum’s arms and legs weren’t from pure clumsiness. Falling over and accidentally cutting yourself can’t just be the reason why there were dark purple splotches and marks all over your body.
The man who claimed to be my father is the real reason behind it. Nearly every day, this person would torture her; punches, kicks, strangling. You name it; he’s done it.
Days passed; months passed; years passed but nothing changed. The abuse continued; scars faded only for new ones to replace them, more visible than before. The anger within only grew stronger and stronger.
My old man and I were near each other watching whatever was on T.V. Excluding the T.V, nothing but silence hung in the air. I reached for the remote control only for my hand to get slapped. “Don’t even think about it, boy,” he growled. The threatening tone was clear as daylight but I was too preoccupied for it to annoy me. A red handprint formed on my hand.
The T.V. flickered once, twice, before it changed from the cricket show to the 7News report. “Once again, the midnight slasher has appeared. A man was found near the alleyway at approximately 12 AM early this morning. The man, currently being treated at the Royal Hospital, is the fifth victim this month.” The T.V. flickered once more as the report continued. “All wounds have been identified to be something small like a pocketknife or a small sharp object. Police are unsure if the slasher is working with an accomplice or if they’re on their own. They are also bewildered by the fact that the all leads end up as a dead end.” I turned to the man lounging on the sofa with a bottle of VB beer in his hand. 
“Hey dad, who do you think it is?” I asked, careful to not let my emotions slip. 
“How the hell would I know?! Could be some psychopathic girl for all I care.”
“I heard it’s a guy who probably has some sort of grudge against male adults.” 
“Are you trying to say that I’m stupid?!” He roared. Pain shot through my ear at the intensity and volume but no complaint or words came out of my mouth. My eyes were focused on the fur ball that sat in the corner.

My mum loved this cat. She said it always kept her company when I was at school and my dad was doing who knows what. She also said that it was her best friend, someone she could turn to. She had originally named it ‘Orangutan’ after its orange fur and because it’s unusually long limbs but changed it to ‘Tigger’ after the bouncing tiger from my childhood T.V show: Winnie the Pooh.
“In other news, the strange mutilations of street animals have brought many animal lovers to tears. This mysterious slaughterer has been targeting pets and stray animals alike so make sure to keep your pets indoors at night.” I had grabbed the cat by its cuff. A loud hiss resonated followed by a loud ‘OUCH!’ I chased after the orange bundle, running after it into the small backyard. I caught its orange fluffy tail, watching out for the claws as it tried to blind me.
A loud crash from inside and a female scream made me drop what I was doing. “ROBERT! STOP!” Anger bubbled within me, my fists clenching and unclenching as I heard my mum continuously scream. A loud thud could be heard from inside the house followed by the sound of slapping and heavier thumps. My fingers inched towards the item in my pocket. “Please, stop. No more.” Without even thinking I had drawn my pocketknife and grasped it firmly in my right hand. My left hand grasped the door pane tightly – turning my knuckles white.
I remained at the door until nothing but silence was heard. Soft crying made me step inside just as my dad turned the corner. He saw the pocketknife and his lips curled into a smirk. “Are you going to hurt me boy?” he snarled. My anger popped and I ran at him, my arm raised.
Before I could do anything, he stopped me with one hand, grabbed the knife and landed a punch, leaving me breathless. I coughed and gasped for precious air. “I’ll be taking this, you ungrateful brat.” He walked upstairs to his room before slamming the door with a loud ‘bang’.
I got up, ignoring the pain that shot up from my leg; I walked to my mum’s side who was crying, hugging the cat that had sprinted into the house. A resentful feeling built up in my chest as I watched the scene in front of me. Disgusted, I left the lounge room and went out back where I stayed for the rest of the day.
Night fell with the moon and stars glittering in the midnight sky. I creaked open the door and carefully slipped in, making sure that I avoided the moonlight that slipped through the curtains. My eyes glanced left and right, searching for the object that was taken away a couple of hours earlier. It felt like hours when only a few minutes had passed when my eyes finally landed on the knife that was hidden well in the dark.
I tiptoed to its location, opened it and stared at the blade. The memories of abuse, the images of my battered mum crying, all the scars that littered my body fuelled the anger within. Instead of closing it and slipping it into my pocket, I glided over to the sleeping figure. Memories of feats before this floated into my mind as I brought my raised arm onto the body, once again all the anger inside dissipated.

Story created on: 20 March 2014
Story completed on: 04 April 2014
Story posted on: 08 June 2014
Word Count: 1,200

Creator: I'm not satisfied with it at all but I just hope I get a good mark for my English haha.

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