The Closet

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It was a late night, and I could not remember where it was that I had been prior, but I remember that I had escaped from extreme violence- (perhaps the reason I couldn’t remember?) In retrospect, I do, honestly, remember what happened prior, but at the time I didn’t, so for the sake of letting you experience the narrative through MY shoes, I did not, in fact, remember.

I must have been walking for an hour when I finally found my house. I was relieved to feel safe again. The parents were home, but I couldn’t let them see me coming into the house this late, they would be angry- so I snuck in through the bedroom window, breathing heavily. Something wasn’t right though, I felt as if I had been followed. I looked down and saw that there was blood on my suit. My blood? I heard somebody staggering towards the open window outside- they were coming! I quickly examined the room, and seeing no alternative, I hid in the closet, hoping that they wouldn’t find me. I saw, through the slits in the closet, a silhouette stumbling through the window frame, and collapsing on the ground, giggling, before rising up again. They were intoxicated, of this I was certain. I shook violently, chilled by the realization that this was actually happening. They looked towards the closet, then towards the door. They stumbled out of the room and judging by the footsteps, they entered the bathroom (I knew the layout of the house well).

They took their time in the restroom, giving me enough time to calm down and remember the small flip knife I had in my pocket. Ironically enough, the knife was for a situation just such as this. They were down the hallway, just outside of the bedroom door. My heart pounded, I couldn’t believe this was happening. The doorknob twisted and the door swung open slowly. My heart was smashing against my chest now, I felt as if they would hear it, but perhaps it was their intoxication that saved me from discovery. They walked into the room, this time more steady than before. I gripped the knife tightly. Despite my lack of memory, I suddenly remembered that I knew that they would follow me in here. Perhaps I shouldn’t have felt afraid after all.

The revelation changed nothing, I was afraid. Afraid even though I felt as if I had experienced this before. They looked towards the closet now, with purpose. Had they spotted me? Impossible. They approached now, perhaps for reasons other than to find me. They stood just before the closet now. This was actually happening. They followed me into the house and now they had found me. They began to open the doors then and it felt as if time stood still. The small crack of light traced my left eye which watched them as it had for two months now, though they had not yet comprehended what they were seeing. I pushed open the door, and they fell back, gasping in surprise. I drove the knife into their neck to prevent a scream.

I was elated. Just ecstatic. Two in one night. Incredible. I dropped the knife which I had stolen from the youth at a party. As far as forensics was concerned, it was just an odd suicide. I felt suddenly naked in my latex suit. The blood stained suit which covered me from head to toe. This has become to routine. Too easy and boring. Perhaps I could shake it up next time? Give a secret warning that my next victim won’t recognize. Perhaps I already have?

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7 Comments on 'The Closet'

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  • Commented on May 4, 2015 at 12:03 am

    For people who don’t get the ending, he says he would leave a clue to his next victim, and he says,” Perhaps I already have?” Indicating that this story is the clue and you are the next victim? *glances at my closet and gets ready to throw my angry cat*

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  • Commented on November 13, 2014 at 5:17 pm

    Incredible. You threw me off guard like a rain drop from a cracked whip with that plot twist.

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  • Commented on November 28, 2014 at 11:52 pm

    I think the person has a mental problem and often forgets that they aren’t running from things, rather than the things from from them.

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  • Commented on November 24, 2014 at 10:06 pm

    It’s interesting and I like the concept. However I’m having trouble understanding the ending. The writing just changes to a different perspective or something. Wish it was written clearer.

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  • Commented on October 17, 2016 at 7:49 pm

    For those who didn’t get the ending, the psychopathic person tells that YOU might be the next victim *takes out Katana*

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  • Commented on September 10, 2015 at 7:38 pm

    I love pastas like this, seen through the mind of someone truly mentally ill, so you don’t get the full impact until the end.

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  • Jeff The Killer
    Commented on February 10, 2016 at 12:06 pm

    Very interesting. [Much better than Jane’s story.]

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