I cried again last night” Brice spoke these words out loud to himself.
Brice was a quiet young man, full of wondrous and inventive ideas but he had no drive within to see them through. At five eleven he would be considered a handsome man, not model handsome but the kind of features and aura that would make you look twice. He was well-groomed with short dark brown hair styled to be a little edgy but again not too much. You could say that Brice was not the kind of person that liked to stand out of the crowd but sometimes did, he would often dress down in the hopes of not adding to his dilemma but even his grungier attempts look better than most.
Brice sat upright in his chair and typed the words that he had just spoken out loud, and watched as they formed on the screen. He had always considered or more aptly put wanted to consider himself as a writer but found it extremely hard to find the right words to flow from the stories in his head.
He had tried many different genres in his writing but no style had suited his needs until now. He had decided that he would undertake a more darker and sinister line to his stories, this was to be his thing and it was going to work no matter what.
He had started reading some of the best horror writers that the world has produced and he wanted to be amongst them, Dean Koontz was his favourite but closely followed by Richard Laymon, Steven King, Edgar Allen Poe just to mention a few.
Brice was settled in his room and at his desk writing out the structure to his current story idea, about a killer that does what he does not because he likes to kill but to understand the feelings, emotions and motivation that come with such an act. He found that a dot point structure would give him an overall picture of what was needed and he could expand on each point in turn.
- The killer stalks his victim to find the perfect opportunity to strike
- Taking the opportunity decides that the victim will provide the setting in the way of his/her dwellings
- The killer will gain entry by ways of seduction and/or kindness
- Once in control, he will bind his victim and render them quiet and helpless
- Mental and physical stress should be applied by the killer to fully understand the outcome that can be achieved
- Care would have to be taken as to not allow our killer to be caught
- Leave or plant clues at the crime scene to throw any investigation off his tracks
- Have an alibi or corroborating story as cover
He had been working on his story layout for a little over an hour now and he decided it was time for a break. Standing from his desk he looked around his room. He was a lucky young man and had everything he could possibly need, he lived with his mom since his dad left them and she adored and spoiled him excessively.
Brice stood and walked across his room and knelt down beside his bed to pull out an old style suitcase, the ones with the side press popup latches. The latches snapped open with a loud twang sound as he opened it, removing the large leather pouch housed inside he placed it on his bed, he untied the leather strap that bound it closed and unrolled it to display the contents for his and only his pleasure.
Six blades of immense beauty, hand crafted bone and wooden handles with the most delicately inlaid stones. The designs on each handle were unique and individual to that knife. He ran his fingers over the carvings of the second largest knife; it was his favourite in the collection and the only knife to have a fuller or better put a blood groove on its blade. The design was of a dragon carved into the handle with a deep red stone set in the eye.
Brice was in a trance like state when he heard his mother entering their home and quickly rolled the pouch and put it into his backpack.
“Hi honey, you home?” his mom yelled whilst dropping her keys into a bowl at the front door.
“Yes mom, I just finished some writing and I am about to head off to the library to do some research” replied Brice putting the backpack on and grabbing his skateboard.
“Sorry I’m late, you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner or I could fix you a sandwich?” said his mom.
Brice loved his mom and he loved that she always thought of his welfare.
“No mom” Brice was now in the hallway heading for the front door, he kissed his mom on the cheek as he passed, “I’m good, I will eat when I get home” and with that he was outside standing on the front steps about to enter the night.
Brice took a deep breath and took a moment to think about what the night might hold and then said out aloud…
“I think I will cry again tonight”