Vengeance PlotMature

Twenty years ago in the darkest depths of the moon beams, a deranged lunatic was arrested for murder and aggravated assault.
Now, he is out to get the one thing stopped him, his sister.
Blair Summers is entrapped in a hotel, she must solve the jigsaw and unveil the vengeance plot. Her brother is watching their every move, picking off his victims. Can Blair survive the horror, and learn something she should have learned years ago?


-        THE KNOCKING -

Life is full of surprises, bear that in mind. It was 2005 June when life began to bite back on me. For a dumb ass like me, in that hotel, I truly realised that no one is stupid, not people with brain problems or syndrome. Read with care but I caution you, this is a perilous journey, I hope none of my life ever inflicts on you, and you may not understand, but I wish you a happy life full of love and joy
  Signed: Blair Summers, last report forever, June 27th 2055.

When the thick, starry entrance of the murky twilight approached, the full moon had approached, glistening off every corner of undead birth-places. Stars, like aluminium sparkles shone in the sky, watching over the people of Swansea.
  In a small street known as Simpson Street, there was a graveyard. The jagged, and half crumbled rocks on the headstones, made it look appalling. Vermin rats and voles roamed the area, it had been untouched for ages. There was some headstones with messages for God and floral patterns on them.
  For this one of the two reasons Simpson Street was classed as haunted, the other, a series of unknown murders had sprung up. People found dead, in a pool of scarlet, coagulated blood, blood oozing out of their mouths, trickling down their torsos and chest. There were several ways, the killer had used to pick off him victims, defenestration (the act of throwing someone out of a window) Incineration, Violently Hacking them to Death, Torture, Impalement, Decapitation, Electrocution and lots more.

  During the ordinary, near dead night in Swansea, PC Hunt and Jackson were given the assignment to watch anything unusual. In a few moments of silence, there was a munch, munch, munch
PC Hunt was munching on crisps, and PC Jackson thought, where the hell did he get his table manners from.
  In a few more moments of silence, PC Jackson’s (but let’s just call them Hunt and Jackson) phone rang. The Hello Moto tune blared through the entire police car.
  He leant over, the doughnuts he ate earlier slowing him down and flipped the phone open, it was the sheriff, as he liked to call her.
  Penelope Davies was a stuck-up bitch, who never gave a thought about anyone else unless it was to do with her job, and then she took the slight opportunity which she hated to actually talk to someone.
  “Jackson, we just got a call, from a Blair Summers in Simpson Street, she sounded scared, someone took before she gave the full details, the house is number 17” and she hung up.
  The car engine revved to life, the sirens wailing in distress. The blue and red lights flashed to life, indicating for people piss off out of the way.
  There was approximately a few minutes left before they reached Simpson Street, the rubber wheels in agony as they crossed over to Jenny Avenue.  “STOP, STOP, STOP!!!” Jackson screamed.
  The rubber squealed again, and they both exhaled in exhaustion. The big oak door had been turned into scattered splinters and tiny fragments, nothing much was left of it.
  The policemen got out of the car, loaded and cocked their guns, and entered the house. Blair Summers was nowhere to be found downstairs. On the mantelpiece, he saw a picture of Blair Summers, with her parents. Déjà vu struck Jackson and punched him in the stomach. He could a hear a sound of whistling in his imagination and then it sparked to life.
  He had been here before. Blair Summers’ Parents were only two of the victims who had been cut-throated with a scalpel. And then all of a sudden, reality slapped him again...Blair Summers was not alone. Her brother Dale Summers, was a quiet boy who normally sat in the corner. He had long black hair and a scar round his face, he was at least fifteen years older than Blair and Blair was only ten.
  She was a petrified young woman, who had been the first to witness her body and the police couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the young girl, who had wept, tears brushing down her tanned face.
 Jackson made an up motion with his index finger, and mouthed upstairs. He and Hunt had hoped that the killer had not heard their entrance. They also hoped that if this was true then the stairs didn’t creak so loud on their voyage to unknown upstairs.
  Fortunately for them, there was no creaking, but the jade green carpet, had stains of scarlet red on it, which entrapped Jackson’s emotion full of worry.
  Two thoughts would drive him to insanity if he did not accomplish them. No killings and the murderer would go to jail for the twelve people he had killed.
  They searched around until Hunt had a terrified look on him. Upon an Ash door, blood was written on it. Little pieces had trickled down but eventually reached its destination.
  The blood read “In here, help me, please” It was signed off with an X and a hand print, too big to be Blair’s.
  The cops were worried, trap, or truth they didn’t no whether to believe it or not, they congregated around each other and whispered, the most silent they had been with that edge to be heard.
  There wasn’t much which Hunt’s audio satellites couldn’t pick up. Jackson muted “I’ll go in, you stay here, be my back up, and don’t worry if anything happens to me”
  Hunt nodded in reply, but he had an unsure look on his face. He creaked the door open and then
The door slammed open. He glanced around fortuitously. Bags of money just lay there, all with $ signs, plastered all over the place. Jackson thought that there would be a small fortune in it, but didn’t get his hopes high for them to take a chance. In the middle of the room was Blair, encased in razor-wire. Jackson espied tiny droplets of blood drip onto the floor, creating a ruby puddle.
  He dashed over to her and tried to untangle it. “Don’t worry, I’m here to save, you” He saw that there was a coil of razor-wire on a barrel which was holding it in place. Blair was kneeling on a small wooden stump. She was groaning in agony, dried up blood, swooping around her neck, tiny fragile bumps, swelling around.  Jackson uncoiled the wire round her neck and back, and limbs.
  “Thank...thank y... thank you so...” Blair couldn’t finish her sentence. He put her arm around his neck and began to help support her. As they both craned their bodies around, there mouths made an O shape and Blair gagged. In horror and in Shock, surprise, like the world had destroyed. There in a pond of burgundy claret, was Hunt. An awl had been shoved into his back. Blood was pouring out of his oraphis’ and his nerves in the brain made him clench his knuckles and let go.
  Tears began to shed down Jackson’s eye, as he could do nothing to help the dead corpse of his once best trusted friend. In the arch doorway, a shadowed silhouette. He was panting hard, inhaling and exhaling quickly. His fingers were curled up. Blair attempted to speak, but was failing to, all that could be understood was “D...Dale...w...why?” and then she passed out and collapsed on the floor.
  He glared unexpectedly in horror. It couldn’t be, really could it? It wasn’t Blair’s brother Dale was it?
  As the man submerged from the murky depths of the outline, the killer’s face became clearer.
  It was. Dale Summers, the bastard. Last visit, he had been a stuck up cow to Jackson.
  He watched Dale pick something up from behind his back. “I’ve been waiting for you of all. You wanted to find me so bad, here I am, what are you gonna do?”
  “Your a sick vile bastard, killing innocent people, your parents, even you attempted to kill your sister, why?”
  “That is a jigsaw for someone else to piece together” He looked down to the pulsing Blair who was breathing heavily. “Hunt has gone, now your minute of glory has arrived!”
  He charged at him, pulling out a tiny axe from behind his back, and swung at a horizontal 90 degree angle. Jackson jumped backwards hastily, avoiding the rapid attack. He rummaged through his gun holder in search for his revolver gun but he couldn’t find it.
  Terrible smelling sweat began dripping down his massive forehead. “UHH!” Dale grunted and swung the axe down Jackson. Fortunately, he saved himself by splitting his legs and the axe dug into the carpet and pierced through the floor. He kicked Dale’s leg and he fell to the floor in agony.
  He hastily leant up and looked in search and the revolver was found on the floor, lying next to Blair.
  Without thinking, he lunged and collapsed onto Blair. He picked it up. By the time he looked up again, Dale was already charging at him, when
Blood began to dribble out of the tibia and fibula of Dale’s leg. He malformed and the nerves caused his foot to move. It reminded Jackson the time when Hunt had died, which brought tears to his eyes.
  He chucked the revolver onto the ground. Blair moaned and earnestly began struggling to get up. He bent down and helped her up. He knew by instinct that Dale was not dead, so he dragged his corpse along the ground, hitting the wall on the way out.
  Jackson hoped highly that he would never have to return to that house of horror.

  Dale Summers was arrested on the 27th June 1985 for murder, aggravated assault and attempted murder. The sick thought of Dale nearly killing his ten year old sister.
  In the law court, his lawyer could do nothing and he was sentenced to twenty years in jail. Blair was sent off to live with her grandma. It might not have been perfect, but at least she had someone to love her, things back to when her parents were alive, and before her brother turned into a deranged lunatic. He has vowed that he will come back for the only thing that stopped him from killing...trouble is; no one knows what it was.










The End

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