Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-35911608-20180819032430

(Note: Sooo, no idea how well this will be excepted. It was just some idea I had - to WRITE ABOUT, not do, let's make that clear. Anyways, if it doesn't really work, that's fine, I'm kinda eh with it myself, but I leave it to you guys to decide.)

Darcy Turner loved silence. He didn’t care for most music, unless it was some calming ballad on the piano from ages past, and he hated kids even more. Always screaming and yelling and running around making noise.

As he strolled down the sidewalk, Darcy paused for a moment and looked at the tricycle tipped over in a driveway. He looked up, and after a moment recognized the home. The Richardsons. Family of five, three kids. The youngest boy was always screaming, whether it was playing or asking for a drink of water. Not only that, but the boy had a shrill voice that pierced one’s ears.

The little shit also had a habit of hitting people and then running away outside, to escape on his tricycle and joins his friends down the street. Absolutely spoiled. It was a kind of relief, seeing that three wheeled vehicle sitting lifeless on the cement. Darcy smiled softly, then continued on through the neighbourhood.

The morning mist swirled around his legs, blanketing the suburbia in a knee-deep fog. The sky was a light grey, covered with heavy clouds but illuminated by the rising sun from behind. The air was fairly cool for summer, and there was almost no wind, the trees lining Kaiser Avenue standing nearly still. The usual target was still stuck to the side of one tree - a dartboard, left out by one of the older men on the street. Darcy took out a screwdriver, aimed it carefully and- WHOMP! Thrown like a dart, it had stuck right in the bullseye. I’m getting pretty good at this, he thought, then continued on down the avenue.

Kaiser Avenue was on the richer side of town. It was part of a subdivision filled with beautiful houses for the upper middle class, with lush and well tended green lawns to hold barbecues on, and the pools! Ah yes, everyone loved their pools. One time, when Darcy had to repair a unit that was going off every time the dog ran by it, the Grant kids had splashed him while his back was turned. He laughed it off at first, but when they began throwing the pool toys at him, he took it more seriously. Mrs. Grant came out and yelled as well when he tried to approach the kids, then told him to leave without finishing the repair. His boss wasn’t too happy about that one either.

But none of that mattered now. That was the past, this was the present, and the world was quiet here. Just how he liked it. A bird chirped and fluttered above Darcy. He watched it go, making its way to a nest down the avenue in another tree. Of the few sounds Darcy could stand, this was the most beautiful. Oh, how it must have felt to be free, and to have a voice that sung so sweetly.

Tracy, the eldest daughter of the Munroes, she had a great singing voice. Darcy always looked forward to any job at the Munroes because she was constantly practicing. Not only that, but Tracy enjoyed his company, and they would speak in soft voices at great lengths. Though he was generally very negative about most things, she didn’t seem to mind.

Mr. Munroe, however, certainly did. The chunky old fuck, pushing into his 60s at that point, would always interrupt with his deep burly shouting and make Darcy finish the repair immediately, with a prompt slamming of the front door on his way out. He even recalled the day he first installed the system into their house. Darcy had been out back laying down sensors when Mr. Munroe came over and just started watching him. Crunching on an apple, he hovered over Darcy for the rest of the installation. At one point Darcy had politely asked him to back up a bit so he wouldn’t hit Mr. Munroe with a pole, to which he responded, “Oh, now you’re gonna threaten to hit me? Have a problem with me making sure I’m get my money’s worth? Well maybe you can get the fuck out, and I’ll have someone more competent do the job.”

Darcy remembered blood dripping from his hand that day. His fingernails bore their way into his palm as he clenched his fist, just barely holding back from knocking the old fart on his ass and smashing his head into jam. Each and every day, this was his job: going door to door on Kaiser Avenue, checking out repair and installation requests for the HARRIS security system company. And every house, there were a pair of cranky geezers with some kind of eternal gripe against youth - save their own overly spoiled children, who were usually the ones responsible for breaking the system in the first place.

And after a long day of putting up with people’s shit, he’d come home to the bitch. Donna always had something petty to complain about from her job at a local cafe - “There was this one guy who didn’t even tip me, even after I had made it clear that was what you’re supposed to do, like, sorry asshole.” - but would never even consider hearing about Darcy’s day. She’d either just cut him off with her own stories, or say she was late for some bullshit and leave the apartment.

A boiling anger started within Darcy, but he tried with all his might to contain it. Standing there in the middle of the street, he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, but the memories flooded to him anyways. Donna’s birthday was last night. When she came to him asking for her gift, Darcy blankly pulled out a metal tube of sorts.

“What the fuck is this, some kind of, weird sex toy? Is this seriously what you got me?” Donna made a disgusted face, the one he’d grown to see all too often.

“No…” Darcy replied, reaching for his back. As he spun the silencer onto the barrel of his gun, he simply replied, “This is.” He only used one shot; she’d already bled him of enough money and resources.

Darcy had been planning this for weeks - no, months. He wanted to end those who caused him grief, but spending the rest of his life in a noisy prison didn’t sound quite appealing. He began to think and think, pacing by Donna’s corpse, trying to figure out how to eliminate the residents of Kaiser Avenue without being caught - at least, not immediately. After an hour, he looked to the gun in his hand. He knew what to do.

Darcy reached the avenue at about 4:30 in the morning. Though everyone on the avenue owned a HARRIS security system, the people there weren’t of enough importance to hire wandering security. Save that shit for Bel-Air. He entered onto the street, pulled in, then parked his van and made his way up to the Richardson’s house. Entering around the back through a sliding door, he started his way upstairs, moving slowly as to not cause a creak on the floorboards. He knew the layout of the house from his jobs here - he went straight for the kids’ room.

The door was opened just a tad, enough for him to open some more and lay some shots from the doorway into the three beds. Proceeding down the hall, he did the same to the mister and the missus.

After exiting, Darcy checked the silencer, which was still in place, and went back to his van. Grabbing a fresh magazine, he reloaded the gun, and reactivated the security system on his laptop. On and on he went, down the street, house by house, quiet shot by quiet shot, each resident of Kaiser Avenue was slain. It pained him to take out young Tracy, but he expressed his frustration on Mr. Munroe. The man’s head was blended into his pillow, with his wife laid to rest next to him, a single hole leaking blood from her temple.

Once the deed was finished in every house, Darcy Turner walked outside, tossed his gun into the lawn, and closed his eyes. The neighbourhood was quiet. He had made this quiet place, and he smiled. A light fog had rolled in. There were no screaming children, no angry seniors, just blissful silence. Darcy Turner loved silence. 