by darkinjinx » Sat Jun 21, 2014 9:46 am
Chapter 1 -- An Introduction to the Life of Charissa Frost:
I never wanted to be a killer. It isn’t like I woke up one day and decided, being a mass murderer would be quite fun. For those school questionnaires that asked what you wanted to be when you grew up, I didn’t answer serial killer. In fact, I don’t think I even want to be a killer now. However, it is my career choice and I am determined to stick by it.
“This is boring, let’s go down to the lake,” Marilyn said. Charissa got up and smiled. Hide and go seek was getting a little tedious after being stuck inside due to days of heavy snow. She raced into the huge room shared by all the girl orphans, more commonly called the West. The boys room was the East. Closest to the door were the creaking cradles, each one with a small mewling baby, confused and dazed as it peered about for its mother. After that were the toddler’s trundle beds, sheets askew and the chests at the end of their beds open and worn. Farther back were the beds of the girls that were 5 through 10, which were metal and squeaked like a hoard of mice all through the night. It continued on like this, rows of beds in age ascending order until you came to the teenager’s beds, pushed up against the wall. They were newly painted white with built in drawers underneath and all equipped with non-squeaky wooden bed frames. Charissa’s bed was in the 11 through 13 section. The sheets were perfectly folded on the mattress and placed underneath was a scratched and dirty suitcase that held her clothes. A small lock box was tucked against the wall under the bed and contained some of her more precious items; a name tag that was pinned to her onesie when she was brought to the orphanage, a pouch containing $4.78, and a shiny porcelain horse on a music box, that, when someone turned the key, would spin the horse slowly while the music box forced out a messy version of Greensleeves. She leaned down and slid her suitcase out from underneath the bed and removed a tattered scarf and thick coat. Pushing it back under, she snatched her boots from the foot of her bed and looked up to see Marilyn grinning childishly at her. She remembered all the memories they shared. All the times they had fallen down from laughter. All the times they’d sat in the big oak tree outside this rotting building. All the times they had raced down the cobblestone street after Ren, teasing them as he peddled swiftly away on his bicycle to the sweets shop. Listening to the thud of their boots on the wooden floor, they emerged from the orphanage, their breath catching in their throats as the temperature plummeted. My breath came out like a puff of smoke and I smiled eagerly. I was sitting on the metal bench across the street, watching the girls with a keen eye. Marilyn held up her fingers and Charissa planted her feet, her gaze narrowing on the lake at the bottom of the hill. Marilyn’s mitten covered fingers counted down the seconds until they would begin their race. After what seemed like ages, she reached three and they flung themselves down the hill. Almost immediately, they fumbled in the deep snow and started tumbling down the steep, powdery hill and onto the even ground at the bottom. Marilyn sprung up and dusted the snow off her pants and coat, her eyes brighter and her smile wider. Her blond hair was filled with pockets of ice and her face was flushed from the cold. “Come on slow poke!” She called as she hurtled towards the frozen lake. I smiled and raised myself up from the bench, promising to return later.
Last edited by
darkinjinx on Sat Jun 21, 2014 9:52 am, edited 1 time in total.
