Murderous Memories

    A young man wandered the dark cold streets. A street lamps flickering light made the scene a little cliché. He walked to the corner and stopped, leaning against the stop sign. He took out a small black pocket book and a fountain pen; the man began scribbling something on the pages of the book.

    A young girl was watching the man from her house. The house was on the other side of the road, giving her a nice view of what the man was doing.

    He didn't notice someone was watching him, he was silently writing in his book. He put the book and pen back into his pockets before going back and doing what he came here to do.

    The girl turned around, her back facing the window. She brushed her sleek honey-brown hair with her hands. She closed her warm honey coloured eyes and smiled slyly. She grabbed her jacket and stepped into her yellow boots.

    She left the house and began walking over to him. She stopped  near the curb and cleared her throat. He turned around and was face to face with her.

    The man smiled broadly. The girl nodded when he asked if she was his fraternal twin. They were engulfed in their own little conversation. The man backed away slowly. She gripped something behind her back.

    Suddenly, the man asked her if she was alright. The girl looked at him solemnly and pulled out a pistol from behind her. The man tried to tell her not to shoot, since they were family. She shook her head. She told him that she could not allow him to tell anyone where she lived, or even existed.

    The girl pulled the trigger, and a  couple of bullets flew out and pierced the man's chest. A loud scream echoed throughout the neighborhood.

    The man laid there motionlessly on the ground. Blood surrounded the dead body. The girl laughed icily. She put her gun back in her jacket and grabbed his body. She dragged it to her backyard and opened the shed. The rotten smell of death flowed out. She chucked his body into the shed, looking around it. Her collection was complete. Her parents, eldest and youngest brother had been reduced to nothing but bones. Her twin would join them all soon.

    She shut the door and locked it. She then headed back into her house to clean up. She placed the gun in a drawer. It was on top of a picture, an old picture of her and her family when they were all alive. It was when she and her twin turned ten. She scowled at the picture and took it out. She grabbed a lighter and headed back into the backyard.

    The madwoman crouched down and lit up the lighter. She placed the picture over the flames and it caught on fire quickly. She watched as her memories of her tenth birthday disappeared before her.