Maxwell (standard:horror, 2164 words)
Author: Zeth	Added: Jul 08 2008	Views/Reads: 3232/2233	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is a slasher, preety much. It isn't finished, just a taste. PLEASE, I know it isn't a pleasnt story, comment me if you have any suggestions on tweaking it, it is in concentrate, so it isn't as discriptive as I would like.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

again, and blood was almost spewing from her neck. A nurse rushed in, 
then saw the boy drinking like a vampire.  She rushed over with 
extraordinary grace, pulling the small child off her. 

"Are you okay?", Mr. Ceeds asked, stroking her hand. She opened her eyes
to see her laying on her bed, neck still intact.  She started to sit 
up, then Mr. Ceeds gently held her down. 

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine.  What the hell happened.", she said rubbing her
stitched up finger. 

"You sliced your finger pretty good", he said. 

"And that put me in here?", she said yelling and confused. 

"You also fell on the knife, it almost paralyzed you.  You will be fine
though, they might release you tomorrow.", he said with little or no 
hope in his voice. 

1997: 

Two years after Max tasted blood for the first time, they had almost
forgotten about it, just an oddity.  They were on their way home from a 
symphony their town put on every fourth of July, playing the same worn 
out songs, the audience clapped like robots, uniform and precise. 

"Why do we always have to go to the thingy", Max complained, he hated it
as much as he hated cleaning his room, which was with a passion. 

"Because.", Mr. Ceeds said, unable to come up with an answer. 

Max dropped it and dozed as they drove home.  They pulled up to the
small driveway of their small suburban house.  They got out and walked 
to their door.  The wind trying to whisper of the upcoming tragedy.  
The door slid open easily and they stepped inside, searching for a 
light, Mrs. Ceeds put down her coat and purse, she sat on the couch of 
the living room (green carpet, green couch/chairs, green paint, the 
green room of which they used for relaxation. Yes, they were into 
plays) and let out a sigh of relief, that they were finally home.  A 
crash from the kitchen startled the three of them, about that time Mr. 
Ceeds found the light switch and flashed it on.  In the Kitchen 
doorway, a literally HUGE man stood at the doorway, black shirt, black 
pants. shaved clean on head and face, his white skin acted as a light 
in the darkness, alerting his presence.  He had a gun trained on Max. 

"FUCK", was all Mr. Ceeds was able to say before the gun moved from the
kid, to him and a bright flash.  He fell to the floor, blood pouring 
from his stomach.  The burglar took off toward the front door, not 
looking back once.  You herd a engine rev, and tires screaming. 

"Oh my God!", Mrs. Ceeds screamed stumbling over to her fading husband,
feeling his face which was white with fear and shock.  Max watched the 
blood pour out of his dad.  He looked where the crook was standing, a 
gun lay there. He walked over to it and picked it up, it was too big 
for his small hands, and had to hold it with two hands.  He put it in 
his pocket and walked over to his dad and mom.  He put a arm over both 
of them, and hugged them both, his mom returned the favor, and put an 
arm around him but keeps sobbing.  With sudden swiftness, Max took his 
arm off his fathers side, and thrust ed his finger into the gun wound.  
He felt around feeling his intestines and blood.  Mr. Ceeds couldn't 
scream, he was too far.  Max pulled out some gore and put it in his 
mouth.  His mom said nothing either. 

"I love you Daddy!  Your blood is so warm, keep bleeding Daddy, I like
that sound." He said in his nice, innocent voice.  He slowly pulled out 
the gun and shot his mother in the chest.  She moaned and rolled over.  
He started sticking his finger in the gun wound in his mother. She was 
screaming bloody murder. then he grabbed the sides of the wound and 
pulled on it opening the hole. "I love you too Mummy. Keep screaming 
Mummy, I like that sound", He said sounding slightly redundant.  He 
started reaching in, able to fit his whole hand in there now.  He 
pulled out more gore, parts of random organs.  He shoved it into his 
mouth, smiling his bashful smile.  His eyes shining bright days were 
behind them, a knew light inhabited them.  Darkness, perhaps?  His 
mother gasped and let out one more agonizing scream and glossed her 
eyes.  He started to swallow his third bite when he herd sirens in the 
darkness.  He fled to his room and hid in his closet.  He hid there 
shaking in fear of being caught.  He was nine. He knew about death, 
death and punishment (both of which could easily be synonyms).  He herd 
knocking at the door.  It was unlocked after the burglar left, so they 
entered.  It must not of taken long to see the body's because Max herd 
gasps and 'Oh my God!'.  He hid in there arms around his knees, in a 
upright fetal position.  They saw the intestines slightly pulled out of 
the stomach wound, and the crudely widened gunshot on his mother. 

THEY FOUND HIM, SEVERAL MINUTES LATER IN FACT.  THE CROOK 'MADE' HIM EAT
HIS PARENTS AND TOOK OFF WHEN THE SIRENS WERE HERD, AT LEAST THATS WHAT 
HE TOLD THEM.  THEY BOUGHT IT AND PLACED HIM IN TRAMA THERAPY AND 
PLACED HIM WITH FOSTER PARENTS.  THEY WEREN'T EXACTLY good PARENTS AND 
OFTEN GAVE HIM HARSH PUNISMENT.  HE DRANK THE BLOOD THAT LEFT HIS 
WOUNDS.  BECOMING MORE AND MORE FACINATED WITH THE TASTE AND TEXTURE OF 
IT ALL. 

2001: 

Maxwell laid in his bed listening to Jane and Rob Quartz argue over
groceries.  They always got into these stupid arguments and the husband 
gets fed up and gets drunk and runs to the strip clubs.  Jane, now 
enraged, would take her anger and sadness and turn it into rage.  Max 
inevitably became the emotional punching bag for the both of them.  He 
has been stabbed, burnt, held under water 'till he passed out, and 
whipped.  He became almost used to it, and let the rage burrow down 
under everything else.  Waiting.  Waiting.... 

"Get your FUCKING ass up", Screamed Rob, pounding on the door. obviously
drunk, "GET UP", he screamed, he punched the door as hard as he could, 
it went through it and got stuck.  "Oh FUCK", he said, trying to cram 
every curse he could.  "Get up fag".  Rob said from the other side. His 
hand was bleeding.  Max got up and walked over to his door looking at 
the limp hand, blood dripping slowly to the concrete below.  "Marx", he 
said mispronouncing his name again. 

The limp hand so warm and tasty, he hadn't eaten in at least four meals
ago.  The blood pulsed with life.  It was crimson as red wine.  So 
tempting.  He bent down and licked the blood from Rob's limp hand.  It 
tasted better than his own. It was original,  somewhat salty, and yet 
so good. 

"What the FUCK?  Jarne, He is gay as a fag", he said hollering
abnormally loud.  He was way past wasted.  Once again mispronouncing a 
name. 

Max dug his teeth into Rob.  They hit bone, thin he started grinding,
blood started flowing profusely.  Rob started screaming, Trying to jerk 
his hand free. But a nail that was digging into his skin every time he 
moved prevented that.  He tore off a whole chunk of skin. Gleaming in 
the dim lighting.  He sat down at the other wall,  Chewing on the skin, 
well content. 

"Help! Help ME!", rob screamed.  Thrashing his ruined hand around. 


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