I.
Artora had always understood that she was abnormal, though she thought little of it while alone. Never had a day passed by where something odd didn’t happen, where in a fit of emotion small things wouldn’t happen. Her family had all but stopped speaking to her, calling her diablo, crossing themselves when she entered (Though this was a bit odd, as her family was neither religious nor spanish speaking). It did not matter though. She was happier alone, away from the prying eyes and the judging looks. She would never love people, never feel any compassion for the masses. She was abnormal, and that was a fact that she had to embrace.
II.
But can’t they all embrace it too? They love their superheroes, their film made mutants. They have never
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She sits alone in her sitting room, her eyes wandering across the pages of a smutty romance that she can only read in these few precious hours. She sits bored, not fully immersed in any of her surroundings. Until she hears it. The scream, the wail, the maniacal laughter. She runs up the stairs, she opens the door to her sons room. She faints. When she comes too, she faints again. There on the floor is her son. There on the ceiling is her son. There on all the walls is her son. It is as if he has been exploded, his parts scattered, his blood replacing the white paint of the walls. Mary runs, she calls the police. Then, she faints …show more content…
Matt has always been a bit of a party animal, always cherished the night life. He is currently 17, and can’t wait until the next year when he can do this without question. He walks down the street, his steps a little less sure. Matt has been drinking, and his tolerance is not as high as he would lead everyone else to believe. He whistles, an off key shriek of a whistle that every dog on the street is apparently hearing. He looks in front of him, seeing his mother leaving the house. Her hair is half down, clearly she was in the middle of taking it down when she heard the symphony of dogs. Oh shoot. She won’t mind the time of night, he is infact earlier than expected, but the whistle, the walk. Matt is clearly drunk. He keeps walking, attempting to speed up, instead tripping on some sort of crack, falling onto his face. He doesn’t hear the rustle of leaves above him, he doesn’t see the dark figure falling onto him. He hears dogs, he feels pain. He hears screams, he feels more. The last thing he remembers is this scream, lingering in the air with the dogs howls. Then he is torn apart and feels no