The Story of Samantha Shryne

It's dark. Way too dark. Worst of all, I can't sleep. A silver blade of moonlight streaks through my curtains and falls beside my face. I feel strangely calm, considering its 3:27am. The alarm clock beside my head illuminates the time in bright red letters. I don't even feel very tired. Although I do feel a sudden strange urge to go outside. Just to feel the cool, calming breeze and the fresh open air, seeing the darkness illuminated by the full moon and the trees, who take on strange, shadowy forms as darkness over comes them, making them look eerie and evil.

Finally standing up and making my way to the balcony down the hall, I have a feeling of regret settling in the pit of my stomach. I've only had this hunch a few times, and during all of them they all granted me with something bad. My hunches never lie. Maybe I should go back to sleep but I know that deep down, i have a lust to go outside. A sudden lust. No, lust isn't the best word to describe this... This, desire. I have a, desire to go to the waiting balcony that over looks my backyard. However the feeling of regret still stirs around in my stomach anxiously.

I pause before I lay my hand upon the brass door handle leading me to the vast outdoors to the balcony. Why am I so shaky? This is strange. I don't like it one bit. My eyes suddenly widen at the feel of a cold breeze behind my neck. I instantly whirl myself around to find the source of this only to be staring straight at a gleaming windowsill, reflecting off a silver glare of moonlight. Although... Why is it open? I swear I always lock my windows at night. Or did I forget? The window is open fairly large, even I could crawl through the opening. As I step over towards the window a sharp, piercing noise startles me. As stop in my tracks, my heart is instantly racing in my chest. What was... That? It sounds like... Crying? I glance over to the source of the crying, which is over to my left, to find a girl, curled up in a ball sitting against the wall. She looks a little old to be crying, she looks like shes older then her teens, possibly out of highschool although I could be wrong. Her sobs come out in small hiccups, and her back shakes every time she lets out a loud, wet sob. Her face is buried in her lap and her long blonde hair falls beside her in long, locks. Her short white dress is covered in rips of all sizes, and a bloody bandage is messily wrapped around her hips. On what appears to be her right leg is another bandage but it's wrapped around her leg slightly above her knee cap and partially down her calf, which is also mottled in crimson blood. Her left arm is also covered in damp blood, a lot more so then her other uh... Injuries, but her left arm is also messily wrapped in dirty bandages. I wonder the last time they've been cleaned.

As I approach her cautiously, I feel a longing to help her. Her crying is a lot more vicious now, so I decide to do the only thing I can think of in a situation like this. I ask her what's wrong.

"A-are you okay?" My voice sounds really shaky and the bad feeling in the pit of my stomach seems to be screaming out and telling me to get away from here but I can't. Whats so bad about trying to help this woman? She looks like she's seriously wounded.

She then suddenly looks up at me and stares at my trembling, curious face. I let out a gasp. She's still crying but it's not tears that are running down her face but... It's blood. She's crying blood. It stains her pale face as it runs down her cheeks which are now pink from her crying. Her left eye shines in the moonlight streaming from the open window she must've crawled in from. They seem totally bloodshot for they are actually red themselves. Red, like the devil himself. Her left eye is nothing like her right one for she doesn't even have a right eye. All that remains is the empty, endless black socket of what used to be her eye, and blood just streams out of it too. It flows down her face and drips onto her shaking hands. She looks at me with curiosity and her sobbing slows to a halt. Then she looks me dead in the face... And then she smiles. It's not a pleasant smile. It's the smile someone would give you after they steal your wallet... <span style="color:rgb(34,34,34);font-family:arial,sans-serif;">It's the smile someone would give you when they cheat on you with someone else and rubs it in your face... <span style="color:rgb(34,34,34);font-family:arial,sans-serif;">It's the smile, no, no, no, no it's not a smile but more of a grin. <span style="color:rgb(34,34,34);font-family:arial,sans-serif;">It's the grin; of an insane killer.

<span style="color:rgb(34,34,34);font-family:arial,sans-serif;">I instantly back away completely alarmed with an unexplainable fear. My heart is pounding rapidly as I watch her slowly get up off the floor and stalk towards me still grinning. Her cheeks have drying red streaks down them, making her look now completely evil, her non-existent right eye just adds to the role. Her bloody, bandaged left arm is tightly gripping a machete. I didn't see it before, she must've hidden it under dress when she was crying. She's still advancing towards me and then something hard strikes me in the back, forcing me to stop backing away. <span style="color:rgb(34,34,34);font-family:arial,sans-serif;">It's the wall. <span style="color:rgb(34,34,34);font-family:arial,sans-serif;">I want to panic, but my instincts are telling me not to do so. My reliable never failing gut instincts. Well they were right again this time. I wonder of she can hear my rapid heart beating?

<span style="color:rgb(34,34,34);font-family:arial,sans-serif;">"You asked me if I'm okay. Do you really want to know?" She sneered in a deep, sort of surprisingly sinister voice, grinning the entire time. She ended her sentence in such a way that it made your curiosity <span style="color:rgb(34,34,34);font-family:arial,sans-serif;"> grow. Her voice seems quite pleasant but It leaves an uneasy eeriness in the air. She stops advancing, and patiently waits for an answer. I nod my head in silence, pressing my hands against my sides to force them to stop trembling.

<span style="color:rgb(34,34,34);font-family:arial,sans-serif;">"YOU LIER." She screamed and lunged at me with her machete. Her blonde hair flies behind her in attempt to catch up to her fast moving body. I notice the blood streaming from her face as she starts to cry again. I barely dodge the attack and the machete misses my forehead by mere inches and slams deep into the hard wall that was once behind me. Damn, she's fast. She glances at me and glares. Her machete makes a dull, flat noise as she pulls it out of the wall with ease, like pulling a scorching knife out of a chunk of cold butter. Then she simply lunges at me once again but I can't dodge, I'm not fast enough and shes too close to me already. She ends up cutting me deeply in the arm and I slip to the floor, hugging my injured arm against my body in a desperate attempt to block the intenseness of the constant bleeding that flows, sinking into my clothing. I try to stand but is unable. Between my bleeding, trembling, fear, and rapid heartbeat I'm not surprised that my legs are unable to respond. I simply lay half crouched on the ground, eyes wide with shock and staring into the eye of the bloodied girl who is holding the point of her machete, towards my trembling head.

<span style="color:rgb(34,34,34);font-family:arial,sans-serif;">"W-Who are y-you?" I can't stop shaking. It's making me stutter. "SHUT UP!" She screamed at me. She sounds like a lunatic. She sounds insane. She brought her hands up to her head and clutched them over her ears. Then slowly balled them into fists and let them drop to her sides, still clutching the machete the entire time. "Y-Your voice-" She was the one trembling now. "IT SOUNDS TOO NICE." She screamed at me once again. Her crimson tears run down her face and dropped onto her chest, staining the ripped white dress she wore. "I. HATE. NICE. THINGS." She lunged at me, plunging her machete into my thigh. I couldn't stand the pain. I start to scream as she starts to twist the knife that's within me, fresh blood pours out of my newly made wound. A mix of sweat and tears uncontrollably run down my face.

<span style="color:rgb(34,34,34);font-family:arial,sans-serif;">Suddenly she pulls the bloodied machete out my my leg, and the blood runs down my thigh and starts to pool on the ground with a numbing  pain. I'm still sobbing at the intenseness of this burning pain, clutching at my leg, shaking violently and trembling against my will. She then crouched down so she meets my eye level for I am bleeding fiercely from my leg and is unable to stand. She grins at me once again and starts running the edge of her finger along the blade of her machete collecting blood onto her fingertip and licks it. My heart flutters. Did she just lick my blood?

<span style="color:rgb(34,34,34);font-family:arial,sans-serif;">Grinning at me, she picks up the machete itself and licks the blade clean of blood. "Your blood tastes good," She mumbles softly, still licking the knife clean. "Although your eyes..." She stops what she's doing and looks into my face with an evil grin and an idea just as bad to match.

<span style="color:rgb(34,34,34);font-family:arial,sans-serif;">Pain then suddenly erupts from one of my eyes and next thing I know I'm clutching my eye with both my hands screaming. It feels like I've just been doused with acid and it's eating away into my face, leaving a small, steady stream of blood running through my hands.

<span style="color:rgb(34,34,34);font-family:arial,sans-serif;">"ALTHOUGH YOUR EYES LOOK SO MUCH NICER." She finally finishes her sentence although, I think I was better off when she didn't finish it and wasn't holding one of my dark brown eyes in her hand. Laughter. She's laughing. Her voice sounds high and shrill. If I didn't just have my leg stabbed and my eye pulled out of its socket, her laughter probably wouldn't sound so goddamn evil. Trying to stop shaking, one thought latches onto my mind. Is she going to kill me? "Why did you do that?!" I practically scream at this girl. "Who are you?! Why are you here?!" My random tears flow and make my face feel damp and warm. The pain is too much, I can't take this anymore. If she's going to kill me, she'd better just fucking do it already.

<span style="color:rgb(34,34,34);font-family:arial,sans-serif;">"You remind me of someone I once knew... Someone I used to love... Someone who was alive once... Until I killed him!" A total lunatic grin spread across her pale face and her red eye rolled in its socket anxiously. "He took my eye out. HE TOOK MY FUCKING EYE OUT." Her voice rose and she clutched the machete in hatred, still carefully holding my eye in her other hand. "In return, I took out his pretty blue eyes and kept them in a jar. I wanted him to know how I felt. That son of a bitch. Then I stole his machete from his backyard and slaughtered him. He deserved it, that bastard. After what he did to me..." She looked down in total disgust. The word hate seemed to be written all over her face. "I also drank his rich, iron filled blood. It tasted so sweet." She slowly looked up into my face and a sincere smile spread across her lips. <span style="color:rgb(34,34,34);font-family:arial,sans-serif;">"Y'see, this is why I like the eyes..." An evil grin then appeared across her face and right over the seemingly harmless smile she just had a moment ago. The dried blood is still stained onto her cheeks from earlier. She rose up onto her feet, keeping my eye secured in her hand. She looks completely insane. I know better to keep my mouth shut, if I say anything else she might just cut me again and I've lost enough blood as it is. She raises her machete once again to hit me but before she does, she stops midair. The blade being inches from my helpless face.

<span style="color:rgb(34,34,34);font-family:arial,sans-serif;">"My name. You wanted to know my name." Softly, she mumbles this. She seems calm and steady, not the least bit nervous. "I don't have a name anymore, but my last one was Samantha. Samantha Shryne." Her lips parted and her famous evil grin showed once more. Only this time I notice the perfect row of sharp white teeth perfect, for ripping and consuming flesh. In a flick of a wrist, she clubbed me in the back of the head leaving me on the floor unconscious but still bleeding.

<span style="color:rgb(34,34,34);font-family:arial,sans-serif;">Nothing but darkness then enveloped me, and the girl who was once known as Samantha ran off into the darkness, finding her next victim and her next unique eye, to add to her hellish collection.