User talk:Nothingthatmuch

Ok, I'm telling you this to protect you. I worked with this man, this is mostly from his point of view - from the stories he has told me. Herman is not his real name - I refuse to give away his identity. These things are meant to be confidential, but you need to know. Herman has escaped.


 * The Swan ***

The old car rattled down the dirt track. Herman had decided to take the family away for the month. He'd had a hard time at work - didn't enjoy it - and his wife Brenda stayed at home with the kids. But the kids didn't have to worry too much, Herman was very good at surpressing his emotions. But deep down, he needed a break.

Herman had brought the family dog too, his name was Spencer, he was a large golden labrador whom the entire family (especially the kids) loved. Spencer barked in the back. It was a happy bark, the sun was shining, and the kids were laughing.

As a hobby, Herman made pottery sculptures. He had hoped to be able to make some on this holiday as he had brought the supplies.

Soon, the family arrived. Herman stopped the car and Brenda got out. He swung his door open and got out. She smiled at Herman as he walked round to her side.

"This was a great idea of your's, honey. I hope you get a chance to wind down. It worries me sometimes how calm you are."

"Yeah, I want to wind down, Brenda. And it's good to be calm!" Herman chuckled.

"You're like a swan you know. Calm and beautiful on the surface but peddalling like hell underneath."

Herman laughed and kissed his wife.

"Here we are kids, remember here? We stayed here once for christmas."

"I rememba daddy," his youngest kid piped up. "When you got us da wocking horse."

"That's right Davie," Herman said, patting his youngest child on the head.

"All right! Thanks daddy!" His oldest son, Olly, mused, walking into the old shack.

Herman looked down at his daughter Molly, and smiled. She was always a dark child, and was his oldest. He had always felt a distance from her.

But even she smiled, nodding. After all, it was a beautiful cabin and a beautiful day. Out back was a flourescent floral garden that the dog and children loved to play in. Now Herman could get started on his sculptures.

The days flew by, with daily outings and quiet evenings. Herman told me his marriage was not going too well... if you know what I mean. Herman frequently was berated by Brenda. She told him: "You spend more time with those figurines than me!"

"It's my hobby!" he would yell.

But Herman noticed that Brenda had been acting oddly lately. She hadn't kissed him, he kissed her. It was always him.

Herman realised he had been clenching the figure tightly in his hand. The snail was now mis-shapen. He growled and re-rolled the clay shell into a ball, destroying all of the intricate indents and swirls he had created over the past hour or so.

After more hours, Herman finally finished the snail. He had even glazed over the paint. Regarding the almost finished product proudly, Herman lit up the stove to use as a makeshift kiln.

He pulled the shelf out of the large stove, starting the fire. Then he placed the snail onto the shelf and put it into the 'kiln'.

The next day, Herman got up, it was early morning so he moved carefully to avoid waking Brenda. He walked through to the kids' triple bedroom.

"Davie..." He whispered, shaking the kid softly. Davie's large eyes opened. "Your snail should be ready now. Do you want to come and see?" Davie nodded enthusiastically. But Olly stirred from his bed.

"Daddy, what is it?"

"Oh," Herman grunted. "I was going to give Davie his snail - I finished it last night."

Olly sighed. "When will my dinosaur be ready?"

"I knew you'd say that! Now shush before we wake Molly. I have only just finished the snail - nevermind done your dinosaur and Molly's dolphin." All of them looked over at Molly, who was sound asleep.

So, Herman took his sons to the kiln.

"Right, do you want to get it out?" Herman asked Davie. Davie nodded sincerely. Herman hoisted him by the shoulders and told him to pick up the snail. Davie handed the snail to Herman, but the atmosphere became dangerous for some reason.

Herman clutched the snail in his hand and lost his balance. He ended up almost falling to one side. Davie screamed as he swayed to the side in his father's arms, right beside the raging heat of the stove's inside wall.

Tss. The sound of Davie's flesh searing against the side of the white hot stove could be heard. The child wailed. Herman gasped, regaining his posture.

"Dad! What the hell are you doing?!" Olly screeched, steadying his father by grasping his arm. Herman exclaimed, coming back to his senses, Olly was shouting at him and Davie was crying his eyes out, his chubby face reddening harshly.

Herman quickly pulled Davie away, and put him down on the floor. He was confused as to what had just happened. He was pained to see his son in anguish.

"Dad... I'm scared..." Olly whimpered.

Herman frowned. "Why? It was an accident!" he turned to his youngest son. "Davie, let me see..."

Herman's eyes scanned Davie's fragile hand which was now blistering badly. His hand was a tiny clammy toddler type of hand. Yet now it looked a lot more agitated and red. Davie kept wailing.

"Shh. You'll wake everyone up."

But Davie did not shush. And Olly continued to back away from his father. Herman brushed Davie's attentions away for a second to address Olly. "And what're you frightened of?!" Herman shouted.

"You." Olly choked, dashing from the room.

Herman growled. "What?! IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!" He shouted after Olly.

Davie squealed. "Oh, look. I'm sorry Davie. There's a tap here, just run your hand under there for me." Herman regarded his son caringly and carried him to the sink. Turning the tap quickly, he apologised to his son again. "I'm so sorry... You know daddy didn't do it on purpose?"

Herman sighed with relief as his son nodded. "But it hurts daddy..."

Herman creased his brow. "I know, I know..." The tap was spurting healing icy water and Olly walked back in, but someone was behind him.

"I woke mummy up." Brenda entered the room slowly.

"What have you done?!" She screeched, running to Davie. She embraced him and pushed Herman away. "You monster..."

"What have I done?!"

"Olly said you did this on purpose."

Herman curled his fists and breathed deeply. He seethed with anger as he approached Olly. "What did you tell her, son." Herman said this so coldly that it was a command - no longer a question.

"Dad..." tears welled in Olly's eyes. "You were smiling the whole time."

Hermans expression dropped. Just then, as his smile faded, he realised his son was right.


 * Smiler ***

Herman turned to his son. "Davie. I am so sorry. I don't know what happened. I promise I didn't mean it." He ruffled his son's fine blond hair - like his. It was very unlike his daughter Molly's hair which was jet black, it didn't seem right as Brenda had ginger hair. It must have skipped a generation as Brenda's mother had black hair.

Herman tried not to think about his childhood.

Davie nodded. Pacing over to the first aid box in the utility room, Herman reached for the bandages. He dashed back to Davie. "Hold out your hand."

Davie obeyed, and Herman carefully wrapped the bandages around his son's tender hand.

"Poor thing..." Brenda mused, kissing Davie's hand. She put him back to bed.

"Olly." Olly's head shot up from staring at the floor from hearing his father's voice. "I wasn't smiling Olly. It was a grimace. It looks like a smile but it's just something I do when I am in a panic."

Olly nodded, wide eyed. Herman could see his eyes shining with fear and something inside him broke. His own son feared him...

Eventually, Brenda put the kids to bed and Herman got a few moments solitude. He punched the wall rather abruptly, an outlet for the swirl of emotions going through his head. He sensed now that he would never have the same relationship with either of his sons. Surprisingly, Olly seemed the worst affected.

He was still holding the snail, and went to turn the stove/kiln off which he still hadn't done. But he was surprised to find a pottery dinosaur in the kiln. Confused, he inspected the dinosaur in detail. Oddly enough, it looked like his work. It had the same sort of colours he usually used and it was made from the same clay.

Should I? he thought, wondering weather to-

"Herman, I need an explanation." Brenda spat all of a sudden, standing at the doorway.

"Is this a prank?" Herman held up the dinosaur.

Brenda took a step closer, shaking her head. "You need sleep, you always spend much too long making those bloody things!"

Herman shook his head. "Right. Then how is there an extra model?"

Brenda looked at the dinosaur in Herman's large hand. "You made that."

"No. I did not make that."

Brenda scoffed. "Don't be such an idiot. I bet you signed it too."

Herman was confused for a second, then realised what she meant. "Hallmarked you mean."

Brenda sighed. "I'm going to bed. Sleep on the sofa please. You're pathetic."

Herman grunted in agitation. "No. You know I didn't mean to harm my son."

"You didn't just harm Davie, you gave Olly one hell of a fright."

Herman walked to Brenda purposefully. He grasped her hand. "You know I love our kids."

"Oh, so now they're ours, not yours!"

"Maybe I will sleep on the sofa Brenda."

"Good." Brenda shut the door. Herman could hear her crying from several rooms away.

Herman sighed deeply, examining the animals with a pained expression. Out of interest, he examined the base of the dinosaur. He almost dropped it when he realised his hallmark was on the base of the dinosaur. However, it had been carved deeper than usual, as if the person who had done it had been very angry.

Herman shook his head, sighed flutteringly and padded through to the living room and regarded the sofa. There was a rug on the side that he decided would just have to make do as his duvet.

Herman took his clothes off, leaving all but his underwear. He didn't want to wake his wife by trying to get pyjamas. He sighed, lying on the sofa awkwardly, half of his calves hanging over the edge. His shoulders were too wide for him to fit properly...

Herman grunted, realising that this day had been one of the worst of his life. The wool of the rug bit into his skin irritatingly and he suffered an extremely rough sleep. Half way through the night, Spencer traipsed in the room with him. "Hiya, boy." Herman rasped hoarsely.

The dog trotted over, panting. Herman patted his head, thankful for the comforting prescence of a dog. He wrapped his hands around Spencer's furry body and held him close for a few seconds. Then, he turned over and returned to his uncomfortable slumber.

"Dad, you need to get up. Why're you on the sofa?" It was a girl's voice. Molly.

"Oh, the dog was sick," Herman lied. Molly nodded but they both knew she knew Herman was lying.

Davie walked in, having apparently forgotten the fear of last night.

He laughed. "Silly daddy. What sleeping on tha sofa for?"

"Spencer was poorly so I gave him some company."

"Poor doggie!" Davie cooed, stroking the patient and well natured dog in the careless way that only a young child can do. Molly looked on knowingly. Olly walked in the room, caught sight of Herman, and cast his eyes to the floor, walking away.

Herman abruptly got up. "Olly..." he sighed. "Come here."

Olly was wide eyed with fear, and approached his terrifying father slowly. Molly frowned. She mouthed something to Olly but he hung his head as Herman glared at him.

"Enough. Come here."

Olly walked over, even closer, he held onto Spencer.

Herman sighed. "I finished your dinosaur. And Davie, your snail's next to it on the coffee table..."

Olly looked overjoyed for a second, but quickly stifled it. "Thanks dad."

Herman nodded, although he knew he would never be daddy again. Molly hung her head.

"Heyy, don't fret! I'll make your dolphin as soon as I can!" Molly smiled weakly and nodded. She was always very... distant.

Later on, Brenda came in the room. "Look at the state of you!" she said nonchalantly. "You've been tired lately. Having not remembered making that figure. I think you need a day out by yourself."

Herman smiled. "Tomorrow. I want to spend some time with the kids today."

Brenda nodded. "Just as long as you get a good nights sleep tonight." Herman nodded.

The family had a pleasant day out, but when they were in a small café, Herman had a bad turn.

He was happy, eating pleasant sandwiches with his family. But then he needed the loo. There was another guy in there who was obviously drunk. Herman avoided his eye contact.

"What're you smiling at, punk?"

Herman frowned, but didn't answer.

The creepy guy walked over to him. "Give us some money then?"

Herman finished his business and walked over to the sink to wash his hands. Now, Herman wasn't one to show his emotions. He was a very stoic man. But this guy was getting on his nerves.

"I am talking to you!"

"Ok, but I am not interested."

The drunk walked over to Herman and grabbed his shirt. "Hey, get your hands off me!" Herman yelled, pushing the man to the floor. He hadn't meant to, he'd genuinely just overestimated his strength.

The drunk was annoyed by this, and stood up quickly. "You big fellas are all the same. Think ya so tough, eh?"

The man smacked Herman hard across the face. He got a good hit in, and had crushed his fist across Herman's nose. He felt his nose pop and got a bitter tingly feeling on his raw skin.

"Ba****d." Herman muttered. He held a finger to a nostril and felt the blood trickling out. He then hit the man back. The drunk quite frankly stood no chance against Herman, who underestimated his own strength.

Herman picked him up by the collar viciously and thrust him into a door of a stall. Herman raised his huge fist and the drunk flinched as he pounded his fist into the drunk's mouth. The drunk frowned, his eyes wide.

He smashed the man's mouth again, and again and again. His fists rained in a frenzy. It was like something had possessed him. The drunk cried out now, he was no longer angry, but confused and afraid.

Herman felt a chuckle rise in his throat, he had never let out anger properly before, not like this.

Then he came to his senses, but was still gripping the material of the drunk's shirt. Blood was all over Herman's hands. The drunk looked at him, eyes wide. He then swirled his mouth worriedly, and spat on the floor.

Both Herman and the drunk gasped at the mix of saliva, blood and chipped teeth. There was a dark crimson dollop on the floor, with a watery coating and teeth scattered on top.

Herman heard a gasp from the men's room doorway. He turned to see Olly.


 * Let Sleeping Dogs Lie ***

Olly burst into tears. His freckled face had tears streaming down it as he bawled. When Herman rushed to hold his son and explain, Olly darted away screaming.

Thankfully the drunk never reported anything.

The days passed badly, they just got worse and worse - the atmosphere anyway.

Herman was growing tired of this - his life. Also, his nose was now broken. He had taken verbal batterings from Brenda, and was now a 'thug' to her. He was a respectable man! Or so he thought...

Herman had a roman nose, but it was ruined now, the bridge crooked over to one side. He looked like a boxer.

Herman gazed into the mirror, tense. He looked at his ruined nose, and sighed deeply. His fair hair almost seemed darker, like his mood had been recently. He hadn't bothered to shave, and his pale brown stubble had grown in. He sighed at the wreck of the man in front of him.

The thing was, another odd thing had happened, when he was making Molly's dolphin, he put it in the kiln, before going to sleep. But in the morning when he went to retrieve it, as before, there was another piece in the kiln. It yet again had his hallmark on it - and it was a slightly odd looking swan.

Who was making these animals?! Herman growled, but that day he gave Molly the dolphin.

She hugged him rather unexpectedly, burying her head into his chest.

"I know you're having a tough time." She said quietly. Herman inhaled shakily.

"Thankyou..." Herman replied.

The next night, Herman rose from the sofa, but something was wrong. All the nights Herman had been sleeping on the sofa, the dog had woken him up at some point in the night.

Herman felt uneased, something wasn't right. He decided to go and check where spencer was.

He made his way across the pretty much pitch black hallway. It was the type of darkness in that you could see your hand in front of your face, but it had a fuzzy outline which made you doubt if you could actually see your hand.

Something in Herman's head was screaming to go to the kiln room. The kiln room was creepy. It was oh so dark, not to mention the phantom clay maker.

The hairs on Herman's arms stood on end as he approached the dark closed door. He sighed in the shiver, not wanting to open the door. As his hand touched the handle, he flinched. It was wet.

He couldn't tell what by. Perhaps it was clay, from the mystery potter. Herman shook his head, he had ignored the extra animals made, but when he thought about it, it was extremely odd. Who the hell made those things?! And how did they know about his children's choices? And his hallmark?

He knew it was late and he was looking for the dog, but he needed to ring his someone right now. He also didn't mind stalling going in the kiln room for the minute. So, he stood in the black hallway, and walked back to the sofa, rumaging for his phone.

Herman did not believe in the paranormal, so this eerie atmosphere hardly affected him, apart from his wandering mind about the clay phantom. He heard nothing but his bare feet sticking to the floor and softly peeling off.

He felt for his phone on the coffee table, and soon switched it on, wincing as it chimed loudly. He was instantly bathed in light.

After quickly entering his security pattern, he quickly clicked on the phone button. He then flicked through and clicked on Bobby Sanders.

The phone rang over and over. Herman sighed as it went to voicemail. He tried again, determined. It must have been about two in the morning.

"Hello? Herman why the hell are you ringing?" Bobby's croaky voice sounded on the line.

"Bobby! Hey!"

"Someone sounds perky! What up?"

"Look, I have had the s***test week."

"Ok..." Bobby chuckled. "Why you ringing me then?"

"Ah, I guess I just need a friend right now. Sorry about this."

"Nah, nah, it's fine, you've helped me through rough patches."

It sounded like Bobby was smiling, despite himself. Bobby had depression and often turned to Herman for help. The two had a bond of steel, the best of friends. They had known each other since childhood.

"I need to ask you something Bob. Have you pranked me?"

"Haha! What? You crazy b****rd? In what context?"

"Hah, well," Herman swallowed nervously. "Someone has been making my animals."

"What?" Bobby laughed. "The pottery ones? Explain?"

"Well, I was making animals for the boys, were at that cabin we usually go to by the way."

"Mmm..."

"And when I checked the stove which I have been using as a kiln, there was an extra one..."

"What?"

"Yeah, there was Olly's animal in there, fully made to my standards in the kiln, painted and all!"

"The hell? That's weird..."

"Yeah, its happened twice now, there has been an extra animal there..."

"Could it be Brenda?"

"No, I once taught her how to make them but she isn't exactly gifted."

Bobby laughed.

"So that's why I need to ask honestly, was it you. If it was a prank, thanks for doing my work for me, but I need to know who this was..."

"It honestly wasn't me... Who else could it be? Molly?"

Herman considered. "I guess? Maybe, but why would she make her own animal, and also, they have my hallmark on them!"

"Oh my god, that's f***ing weird. Maybe you've got a stalker."

"Maybe I have, and I'm gonna kill them for watching me and my kids. They knew what my kids wanted, as the animals."

"Calm down Herm. You gotta look at this carefully, ask Molly if it was her before you go mad."

"I know it wasn't her. The hallmark is intricate. I know she's twelve but I don't think she knows it well enough to do it as well as it's done. It looks almost exactly as I do it."

"Maybe you're blanking, are you really stressed, or tired?"

"Not overly so Bob. Truth be told though, I am having a shit week. Look, right, I had better go, sorry for disturbing you, I just needed to know if that was you."

"Nah, not me. But when you get back if you still don't know you might wanna take it to the coppers."

"Alright mate, better go now. I've lost the dog."

"What?! You're all over the place lad."

Herman chuckled, as he had nothing better to do. "I guess I am."

After Herman put the phone on sleep, he had caught sight of his hand. It was bleeding, and blood coated the palm.

Herman then made his way back to the stove room. He walked achingly slowly as something was shouting in the back of his mind to not go there. His hand felt odd so he decided to lick his hand. If he could find the wound then he would be able to stop the bleeding.

The blood tasted weird. It tasted different somehow. But, Herman shrugged this off and opened the door.

The dark room was before him and he breathed a sigh of relief at the silhouette of Spencer sleeping.

He turned the light on and as it flickered to light he realised how wrong he was.


 * Spencer ***

Herman gasped at the sight before him. "Spencer?" he called, but the dog's eyes were open, staring intently ahead at nothing.

The dog lay like he was sleeping, head on his front two paws, and back legs sprawled out. Herman held back tears. He never cried - ever - but he loved this dog.

Gingerly, he crept over and ran his hand over Spencer's fur. The dog did not react.

But something caught Herman's eye. Under the dog's head was a pool of blood. Herman winced.

When lifting the dog's head, he saw blood on his lower jaw, and realised that the poor creature had no teeth!

Herman stroked the corpse lovingly, who could do such a thing to a dog? Tears welled in Herman's eyes but he refused to cry. To cry was to be weak.

Some bastard needed to pay.

Herman turned the dog over, and held back vomit as he saw that the poor thing had been slit down the middle. The worst part was, the slit had been tailored at the end - in the shape of Herman's hallmark.

Herman kicked the dog's dead body in anger, with some hope of a response. But it was futile, and the dog lay with it's mouth open, staring up.

"Who did this to you?" Herman whispered, barely able to talk. Some psychopath was ruining his life, splitting his family apart.

Herman also saw that the dog's right paw had been hacked off.

Then a realisation hit him as he saw the blood trailed around the room. It had clung to the door handle and sluggishly dripped down. Herman felt bile rise in his throat.

He wasn't cleaning his hand of his own blood.

Herman stepped over the bloody mess of Spencer and ran to the sink, spewing his guts down there. But beside the waterfall of vomit, Herman felt even worse as he spied sets of dog teeth coated in scarlet and a severed paw.

Herman retched again, but someone came to the door. It was Davie.

"Daddy, you ok?"

"Don't come in Davie. And don't look at what's in here. Stay there - no wait, go back to bed."

"Where Spensa?"

"Spencer isn't very well..."

"Shall I go get mummy?"

"Maybe you better had."

Herman heard his son trot off to his wife's room. Not that she was much of a wife anyway.

He then heard her walk through, she switched the hallway light on and walked through the door.

Brenda instantly screamed, rushing over to Spencer. She cried and looked up at Herman. "What have you done?!" She wailed.

"It wasn't me!"

"There's blood everywhere... My god." Brenda walked over to Herman, a look of horror on her face. "Why is Spencer's blood on your face? And all up your arms and on your hands?"

Herman frowned. "I found him. I thought I was bleeding at first."

Brenda gave him a look, mixed between scepticism, sarcasm and fear.

"You have to believe me!"

"I had better call the police."

"No, if it's a killer, then they want attention, its the same guy who has been making the clay things."

"Herman, I saw you make that dinosaur. It was extremely late, and I told you to go to bed."

"What? You're dillusional!"

"No, you looked at me, didn't say a word. But then you smiled Herman, and you looked mad."

Herman slammed his fist onto the sink top. "No! You're lying! I bet it was you!"

Brenda shook her head.

"Stop it! You are plotting against me... I can feel it."

Brenda let the tears fall. "I-"

"No!" Herman screamed, "It wasn't me. I was sick! Look, look at my vomit! LOOK AT IT!"

Brenda was terrified, backing away, but Herman hit her harshly. "It wasn't me..." he cooed.

Herman had never hit Brenda ever before, in fact, Brenda had hit him a few times.

Brenda backed away to find that all three kids were standing in the doorway. Molly was silent, staring ahead. Olly was choking on tears. Davie didn't seem to understand. "Why you hit mummy? She been naughty?"

Herman regained his posture. "All of you. I am sorry I hit your mother, but Spencer is dead. She accused me. It was not me. We have someone watching us and they're trying to tear our lives apart. We can get through this as a family. I loved Spencer and I love all of you. We need to show this psycho that he can't touch us."

Brenda quietly made her way out of the room. "Clean him up please." She muttered.

Molly stared ahead in terror, shaking her head, trying to say something, but the words just wouldn't come.

Olly ran away, but Davie stayed, taking in the sight of the bloody dead dog.

"Go on Davie, run along."

Davie smiled at Herman, and nodded. "Spencer dead. Who's next daddy?"

Herman frowned, and shivered uncontrolably. Did he just imagine his three year old saying that?!

Herman then cleaned up for a few hours, then finally went to bed.

Herman awoke to Brenda throwing his clothes at him. "I need to take the kids out. And I need to explain."

"What?"

"Spencer. Something is f***ed up in our lives - and I don't like it. You can have a day to yourself Herman, you need one."



Herman arrived back, and he knew his family were in. But he was curious, surely they would have been talking about him? Or perhaps it was an elephant in the room?

So, he snuck in slowly. Silently. It was fairly late so he decided to have a quick shower and undress down to his underpants. When he walked from the bathroom, his family still hadn't noticed he was back. He heard murmurs from the back room.

He traipsed quietly over and rested his ear against the door.

"Mum, I saw him kill Spencer. I swear!" It was Molly's voice. Why was she telling Brenda this?

"Did you tell him you saw him make the dinosaur?"

"Yes, but to be honest, I don't like lying to him. He scares me."

"But I honestly saw him make that dinosaur as well as kill Spencer."

"Ok honey..."

Herman growled, he was going to burst in, but decided to wait just a little longer.

"You need to tell Herman, you know." Molly said.

"I know, but now is not a good time."

Why was Molly calling him Herman?! Herman was disgusted that his own daughter would call him by his christian name behind his back.

"But it's not fair on him. I think he's going mad."

"Yeah." Brenda retorted, "But all he needs is one last push, and who knows what he will do?"

But then Herman felt a prescence behind him. Olly stared at him.

Herman whirled around to face Olly, smiling. "Alright son? Did you have a nice day?"

Olly nodded slowly, then ran off as per usual.

Brenda and Molly's conversation stopped at the sound of Herman.

Herman laughed bitterly, opening the door. "It's fine, keep talking."

Brenda and Molly looked up at him in awe. He was such a big man but able to move so quietly. That had always creeped Molly out. When she was little he loved to sneak up on her and it was always unexpected and scary.

"I have heard enough." Herman said. "Tell me what I must know."

"Mum, tell him!" Molly shrieked.

Brenda trembled and hung her head. "I... I am having an affair..."

"What."

Herman stood still like a statue, uncontrollable rage pumping through his veins.

"And that's not all!" Molly sobbed. "I'm not your daughter."

Herman didn't say a word. He left the room silently.

He did not shed a single tear. He did not frown. He kept a straight face as he went to the kiln room. He hung his head and stared off into space. Soon, he drifted off to a rare confortable sleep, and he began to dream.


 * Realisation ***

Herman dreamt he was carving the dinosaur, he was so angry, swelling with rage, yet he kept making this dinosaur. Molly came to the door, and saw him making it.

"I'm just getting a glass of water dad."

Herman laughed, not quite himself. He continued the dinosaur, then carved in his hallmark deeply.

Then another flashback dream occured. He was carving the dolphin. He was muttering incoherent words.

And another, he was carving a fish. It was late night, but Spencer walked in. Herman abandoned his fish he had been working on for the past hour to lean down and stroked the dog. But Spencer was cheeky, and reached his head towards the fish, clamping it in his jaws.

Herman exclaimed. "Oi, get off!"

But Spencer growled, gnashing the clay until all of Herman's work was undone. Herman kicked the dog. Spencer flew across the floor, whimpering.

Now Spencer was angry, and ran to Herman quickly, teeth bared and hackles raised. Herman was using a craft knife for his clay, and instinctively raised it. It dug into Spencer's chest as he jumped for Herman.

Grabbing his collar, Herman gripped the knife tightly and slit it down. He smirked as the dog exclaimed over and over. Spencer howled as Herman then etched his hallmark onto the dog.

Herman laughed and laughed, blood spattering all over him. He jerked the knife out and lay Spencer down. But Spencer was twitching. It looked like he was still alive, which he obviously was not.

"Stop twitching."

But Spencer's right paw waved at Herman. Bye bye Herman. Herman grunted, stabbing the paw. It still twitched, but Herman's patience did not exist anymore.

He hacked the paw over and over, going through tendons and muscle. Yet it still twitched. Stab. Stab. Stab.

Eventually, Herman destroyed the tendon that was allowing the paw to twitch. He then pulled the paw off, with a sickening crack.

Throwing it in the sink, he remembered that he needed to get the fish. So, he leant down and smacked Spencer's jaw. Again and again - until the teeth fell out.

Herman cleared the teeth away to the sink, then checked Spencer's mouth. But it was no use, Spencer had eaten the clay. So, with that, Herman made his way to the sofa, not bothering cleaning his hands. As he walked out, he saw Molly, she peered in and went pale. Herman grinned at her. "Get back to bed." He said softly.

He walked down to the living room and then Herman pulled the rug over himself.

Herman awoke from his sleep in the dark kiln room. Realisation hit him like a brick wall. This was when he realised he had a split personality. But rather than be afraid, he embraced this. He was ready for whatever he would do when he was out of control, and he would see it as he did it - and enjoy it.

He did not know the time, but he heard hushed voices away from him. Molly, Olly, Davie and Brenda. They were undoubtedly talking about him.

He just sat and laughed. But just then he heard his phone ring from his pocket. It happened to be Bobby.

Herman saw no harm in answering it.

"Hiya mate."

"Herman." Bobby sounded weak. He had been crying. "Herman I needed to ring you to tell you that it's all over... Aah."

"What?"

"I've overdosed mate."

"No. No no no, call an ambulance."

Bobby laughed. "Nah. I don't want to. My wife just left me."

"No, look, we all go through tough times. Me and Brenda we- Call a f***ing ambulance!"

"No, mate, and don't you either. I'm calling away from home so you can't tell them where I am. I wanted my last few moments to be talking to you mate."

Herman felt tears rise, and he didn't surpress them. A sob racked through his body but he turned it to a cough. "Alright Bobby... Don't think about the pain..."

"It don't hurt much... Ah heh... I take that back. Look, Herm, you have been the best. Thanks so much mate. Wherever I go, even if I go nowhere, I will always remember you."

"And I will always remember you too Bob. No matter what."

Bobby chuckled. "We had some good times. I love ya mate. You're truly great. Whatever you do you'll always be my mate - and you'll always be a good man."

"Ahem. I er, I love you too."

"Hah... I never thought in all my days I would get that out of you."

"No, but you did. You're a good guy too Bobby. Please, just go and get an ambulance... please."

"Its too late. Far too late. I guess you can't always win. You can't always look after me."

"Yeah." Herman blinked tears down his face. He trued to change the subject, for his dying friends sake. "Remember when we egged Billy Tanley's house, eh?"

"Yeah, heh, yeah mate." Bobby laughed weakly. "Back in highschool. Back when you fancied Jackie Coburn."

Herman scoffed. "Yeah! I was mad back then eh?"

Bobby laughed again. Then he started coughing. "Oh god..." he muttered.

"What?!"

"Nothing, can we just talk of the good times Herm?"

"Ok, how about when we went skydiving."

"Heheheh, when you s*** yourself!"

"Not as much as you Bobby," Herman laughed.

Bobby cackled on the other side of the line. But it wasn't a normal laugh, it turned to coughing. Then he said: "What about that time when we..." He gasped. "When we... uuh. When w-aaaaargh..."

The dying breath of Bobby was only heard by Herman. Only god knew where he was.

"Bob? Bobby?" Herman choked. But he knew his friend was dead. "Bobby..." Herman sobbed.

He then stared at the phone, he did not hang up, and neither did Bobby. Bobby was dead.

Herman stared at the phone for a long time, and then something happened. Herman snapped. His split person merged in his brain, to create a mad and twisted version of himself.

A broad grin spread across Herman's face.


 * Rage ***

Herman glared at the phone, which still did not make a noise. Bobby, talk to me. But he knew Bobby was not there.

Herman curled his fist and smashed it down onto the phone, surprising himself. He liked the pain ebbing onto his hand. So he did it again, crushing his fisted hand onto the phone. Bobby was still on the line.

He bashed the phone one last time and he was satisfied as he heard the screen smash. Pin prick pains hit the side of Herman's hand. Glass became encrusted onto his hand. He smirked as he brought his hand into eyeline and wriggled his fingers. Blood ran down his arm and he smirked deeper.

"Ahaha..." Herman laughed. "Ahahaha! Ha!" Herman cackled, laughing his head off. It was a dark and wicked laugh.

Brenda seemed to have heard as she walked in the door.

"Herman? What is it? You're scaring the kids."

"Hmm hmm..." Herman continued to grin, looking at his wife properly. "You have no idea."

Brenda's green eyes widened as she saw the blood all over Herman's hands. She saw his smashed phone.

"Honey, you're scaring me. What is it?"

Herman stood, and walked over to Brenda, his smile still across his features. He towered above her and spoke in a low voice. "So... I'm honey now? Even though you're having an affair. Molly's not even mine? Explain."

"Well, he wanted a dna test... Turns out Molly is his. We had a one night stand on our ..." Brenda hesitated.

"Go on."

"On our wedding night. It was before you... and I always thought Molly was yours."

"Yeah? Funny, cause she isn't..."

"And then when we found out she was his... he told her. He told her and promised he would get back with me. All I had to do was leave you." Brenda didn't even look at Herman, just at her feet.

Herman stared at her in disgust.

"Come on, we have stayed in this cabin long enough. I'm sorry about the affair. I am so sorry. Lets just go home, take the kids?"

She looked him in the eye, and Herman could have changed his life back to normal. He could have put it all behind him and been human. Or perhaps he couldn't. Maybe the clenching fingers of madness had already taken him. Perhaps part of him wanted to go mad.

Instead of agreeing, like he could of, he asked her a question. The thing is, Herman was unlucky. He was a good man, but his horrific life and traumatic discovering of his split personality had ultimately destroyed him. He did not know it, but our diagnosis made us realise he had been living with the disorder for years.

But he never let out his emotions, they boiled up inside him and turned to stress, making him more violent and unpredictable.

He was a victim of circumstances, but he was going to make the world pay...

"Do you know what's just happened?" Herman asked gravely. "Bobby is dead."

"What?!" Brenda asked softly. "Herman, I am so sorry."

Brenda moved over to Herman, arms outstretched. As she embraced him, Herman realised how much he despised this woman.

Why was it that people like Bobby were taken from his life, yet she remained. She was a liar. She was unfair. She was his wife.

Dark anger gripped Herman all of a sudden, and he pried Brenda off of him. "Don't you hug me. You hypocrite."

Herman was so angry, his whole body throbbed with rage. Brenda looked offended, and Herman growled with anger.

"Well," Herman began, "Bobby has died." Herman then looked to his right, next to the sink. On the desktop was his craft knife - the very knife used to kill Spencer.

Kill. Kill. Kill. Herman loved that word. He smiled, staring at the knife.

"Kill..." He said slowly. Then he cleared his throat. "Bobby killed himself."

Brenda trembled. "What the f*** is wrong with you?!"

Herman cackled. "Maybe you should ask yourself that?" Quickly, Herman grasped Brenda and pushed her against the wall. "And did you know... First, it was little Spencer." Herman smirked, showing his large teeth. Brenda trembled, praying she would be able to talk him down.

"Please, let me g-"

"Don't you know it's rude to answer back?"

"But, if you're about to kill me, I need to tell you something."

"I'm not interested. Now I shall continue. Spencer is dead. Now Bobby is dead. And now... Now you'll be dead." Herman laughed horrifically, and held her with his left arm.

Then he stretched and reached for the knife. Brenda screamed, tears running down her face.

"So, you'll cry about losing your pathetic life, huh?" Herman bullyingly leaned in close to Brenda and whispered in her ear. "How about learning that your daughter isn't yours, and even she knew. How about your best friend killing himself and you listening over the phone? How about learning that you aren't right in the head?! That you killed your dog?! AND THAT YOU ENJOY OTHER'S PAIN?!"

"Oh my god, Herman no! Aaah!" Brenda screamed as Herman plunged the knife through her tender stomach. She wailed and doubled over, shaking as she clutched the wound.

"I - I... Herman, I'm pregnant."

Herman froze, his smile drooped. "No..." Herman tore the knife from Brenda's stomach and sniffed deeply as blood gushed from her, and pieces of her flesh pinged out from the wound.

The floor became dappled with scarlet. Herman thought it was beautiful. But his wife's revelation made him even more angry. He looked into her tearful eyes. Frowning, he uttered. "You always were a liar..."

"No!" She screamed in desperation, weeping madly, blood still falling irregularly from the hole in her stomach.

So, Herman stabbed her collarbone. He laughed abhorrently, twisting the blade and watching in fascination as the slit in her porcelain collarbone grew, and crimson gems sparkled as they dripped from the infliction.

He slid it out, and embraced the horrific atmosphere. Brenda screamed and wailed. "Help! My god... Why?"

Laughing, Herman punched her jaw. Nothing too interesting happened - she was already screaming... Thus Herman decided to clench her jaw in place with one hand, and he held her head too. Then he straight off broke her jaw.

Her once pretty face was now destroyed, and Herman kissed her on the forehead. "Not so pretty now?"

She gargled, blood was flowing into her mouth from her stomach, and her bust jaw.

"How about those teeth?!" Herman laughed, but she just slurred in response.

Herman bashed her jaw over and over, until his bloody hand was coated in hers. She wailed all along, and Herman could smell the fear thick in the air.

He smiled as he caught sight of her ruined teeth, which had now become wonky or fallen out.

Then, "Oh, I'll be kind. May as well kill you now. I have been rather hard on you."

Brenda cried as Herman held the blade at her throat. "Any last words?... Oh, wait. Haha, nevermind."

Then, he slit her throat, straight through the jugular. Her blood spurted upwards, and splattered all over the floor, and Herman.

She slumped down, barely even recognisable as Brenda Mackintyre. The jaw displacement ans blood destroyed her once pretty face and in her hair had caught spatters of the offending fluid. Her final resting expression wasn't peaceful, but was terrorised. A mix between pain, sadness and confusion prevailed from her features.

Herman realised his knife needed sharpening.

He also knew now that his children would have heard their mother's screams of terror. Shaking his head, he walked out of the kiln room as though nothing had happened.

When he opened the door, he found his children. Oh no, wait, his sons and Molly congregated outside the door.

They each looked up at him in pure terror, even Davie.

There their father stood, with blood splattered all over his face and torso. His hands were soaked in the liquid. A cold glare was on his face and they could see he was pondering what to do next.

Rather suddenly, Olly embraced his father. He hugged him tightly and buried his face into hus stomach, trying to avoid the blood. He was crying, but mumbled as he weeped:

"I love you dad."

Herman nodded. "I love you too son. That's why you all must follow me."

The children exchanged looks of horror, but realised they really had no choice, and then followed Herman.

Herman's thoughts were a vicious python swirling inside his head. He clutched his head for a second and then continued walking. Molly was holding onto her half brothers as they walked with her in the middle.

Herman then came to the storeroom. It had a lock on the door...


 * Death ***

A key was in the lock to the storeroom, which Herman grabbed and put in his pocket.

"Davie... Can you find something for me in there?" Herman asked, pushing his son in.

He promptly locked the door and laughed. "It's a pink bunny rabbit. You can only open the door when you find it."

Davie spoke from the other side of the door. "Yes daddy."

Molly and Olly regarded Herman in horror. Molly grasped for the key but Herman pushed her away easily, she ended up a crumpled heap on the floor.

Olly was in hyserics crying.

"Oh shut up." Herman commanded, his vicious voice a hiss. Olly whimpered.

"Actually, Olly, you get in there too."

Olly wailed and tried to run, Herman grabbed his shirt. "No, come to me."

But Olly did not, and he allowed Herman to pull the sleeve from him, and Olly slipped his jacket off, running away.

Herman did not bother to chase him. He could only hide in the house after all.

"Molly..." Herman grinned. "Come with me."

Molly tried to resist as he grabbed her wrist and dragged her along. But her strength was no match for Herman's. She wailed and screamed, but Herman was able to drag her to the living room, and threw her onto the sofa.

Herman laughed heartily. This place they were staying had a kitchen attatched to the lounge they were in. Also, it was a bungalow.

"Wait there. If you move, you will regret it."

Molly sobbed as she sat on the sofa. She knew there was no escape.

Herman walked through to the kitchen, and searched the drawers noisily. It did not matter if the victim heard if they already knew they were going to die. Herman selected a nice small knife. It was small but sharp, and he cut his finger whilst getting it out.

"This should be more suited to killing you..." He mused, looking over his shoulder to Molly. But Molly wasn't there.

"Molly!" He screamed. Typical, she ruined everything. He wanted to slaughter her away from Olly and Davie. Olly had run away though. And now Molly had. Herman growled, stomping through the cabin.

"MOLLY! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW AAARGH!" Herman bellowed, searching rooms. He pushed the kiln room open, his wife smiled wonkily at him. Her toothless grin was more of a grimace. Molly and Olly were not in here. Hopefully he could find one of the b****rds.

Their triple bedroom. He slammed the door open, smirking as he paced in. "Ready or not? Here I come... Heheheh..."

He snuck through the room, but they were not under the beds or in the wardrobe. He growled. "How dare you disobey me..."

He shouted loud, so wherever they were he knew they could hear. But then he heard a muffled voice from the storeroom.

"Daddy, I can't find it."

"Son, keep looking. And always remember... me and mummy love you."

"Ok daddy..."

Herman sighed, not allowing the tears to fall. Davie, Olly and Molly were supposed to die. After all, Maisy died. She would have been one. Why am I thinking about this?! Herman punched the wall. The death of their baby had made Brenda and Herman's marriage decline. That was probably why she had the affair.

Their youngest child was taken early, and the oldest child wasn't even Herman's. Fifteen years Herman had thought Molly was his. He even cut her umbilical cord...

Maisy would have been his only daughter, but she died in the cot. A cot death. A statistic, not the pain engraved onto his brain.

Herman frowned, a snarl on his face. He was torturing himself from the inside.

Molly needed to die - right now. Herman laughed to himself as he walked through the cabin. He checked his room - technically his and Brenda's but now she was dead so...

They were not there. Herman was starting to get really angry. Even more angry than he was previously. His children were disobeying him. Molly was too.

Kill.

Herman looked in the mirror at himself again. The blood from Brenda had dried on his skin, and created an itchy flaky substance. He picked at it with his nail and smirked at himself in the mirror. The reddy brown flakes fell to the floor.

His hands were disgusting, with so much blood on them that he had left a trail wherever he had touched.

Should I? Herman brought a hand to his mouth, telling himself he was licking his blood from it, trying to get out the glass shards and spit them onto the floor. But he knew Brenda's blood would be abundant there. He knew he was being cannibalistic.

With a final look in the mirror, Herman decided his next move. He realised that unless he had searched badly, the only place Olly and Molly would be would be the bathroom.

"Kids... I know where you are." He shouted, not needing to sprint to the bathroom.

Naïvely, they had locked the door. Herman laughed to himself. "I know you're in here."

Rolling his shoulders, he tensed and bulked himself up. He was going to ram this door down. *Bam* *Bam* Herman grunted each time he threw himself into that goddamn door. Breaking down doors certainetly looked much easier in the movies.

So, Herman brought a bare foot up and kicked the lock. "AAARGH!" the lock caught on the arch of his foot, causing him great pain. "SHIT AAAAH! MY GOD!"

His foot squelched as he brought it down. It would not stop bleeding. From inside though, Herman heard Olly whimper. This caused the pain to abate, and Herman's smirk was back.

Now, there was a good hole in Herman's foot, and the lock was covered in his blood. But, the lock looked a little wonky, and with one last shoulder ram, the door flew open, bouncing back on the doorstop. Herman re-adjusted it.

Herman licked his lips as he treaded in there. There was a shower in there, and the curtain was drawn.

"Oh, I really thought I had raised you to be smart..." Herman teased. "Not so f***ing predictable."

Herman left one sided bloody footprints as he walked in, chuckling darkly as he reached the shower curtain. The adrenaline was fast as Herman whipped the curtain open, he smirked down at-... nothing.

"Where the hell are you?" He cursed. But as he walked back, Olly jumped from behind the door, and stabbed Herman's bad foot with a pair of nail scissors, as Molly sprayed de-oderant onto him.

Herman let out a loud cry, stumbling closer to them. But he was distracted and the kids were able to slip away from him. But Molly was known for always carrying her cigarette lighter. She took the cap off quickly as Olly and her zipped out, and she threw it at Herman, instantly igniting his right side.

Herman shouted ear piercingly, his murderous scream was utterly bone chilling. "F***!" He screamed, but the kids were idiots. The shower was right beside Herman.

But he needed to find it... And the blaze was burning his skin, pure heat...

With a yell, he pulled the door open, flames clouding his vision. With his hands, he felt for the switch, and shakenly switched it on.

The pain did not stop, but it declined quickly as the jets of freezing cold water hit his bare skin. He screamed at the sudden temperature change. KILL.

Herman stayed under the comforting water for a while, watching as the water at his feet swirled red. His foot stung like mad, like someone was drilling it from both ends.

He then looked in the mirror and gasped. All of the right side of his body was red and warped. It throbbed with pain. He could thankfully still see from both eyes, but his right eye was now discoloured, and he couldn't see as well.

Molly has f***ed me up. He knew now that he needed to get her back.

Those kids were going to pay. Something caught Herman's eye. Stupid Molly had left her lighter. Smirking, he realised he could use it.

Unsurprisingly, this time around, the kids were in their cupboard.

Herman opened the doors and leered at the children amidst the clothes pile.

He grabbed the both of them and although they struggled, Herman dragged them along to the store room.

Herman kicked Molly down and held her down with his good foot, whilst fumbling for the key. He opened the door and quickly thrust Olly inside the small, cramped area.

He shut the door and locked it again, as Molly trembled beneath him. He raised his foot and took her in his hands, pulling her up and dragging her to the living room, kicking and screaming.

Viciously, he threw her onto the sofa and climbed over her. He laughed as tears streamed from her face. "You're too old to cry now Molly."

Herman flicked her lighter on and held the flame in front of her face. He was also aware that his great weight was holding her down and squashing her. He was overweight, but not from fat at all. Quite the opposite. He was bulky, pretty muscly. Back from the good old days when him and Bobby would go to the gym...

Molly stared at Herman in terror as he lowered the lighter dangerously close to her hair. "Do you want to lose that lovely black hair? Do you want me to get you back for f***ing me up?!"

Molly screamed as Herman punched her face. Blood quickly welled from her delicate nose and Herman just grinned down at her. "Think of the pain... All of the pain as your hair roasts. Here's a starter for you."

Herman lowered the lighter to Molly's eyebrow. "No, dad please."

Herman instantly pulled the knife from his back pocket and stabbed her thigh. "Don't you ever call me that."

She screamed in agony, attempting to clutch her wound but couldn't as he pinned her down. "I'm sorry Herman, it just slipped out."

"We are not related. We never will be. Now then, let me continue." He then lowered the lighter to her eyebrow, and watched as she screamed, and her eyebrow singed.

"Oh, I'm bored. Let's burn this house down, eh?"

Molly wailed, and Herman got up off of her. He lowered the flame to her shirt, and burned that, and watched as the flames swallowed her up, and her hair caught it too.

"See you in hell."

Herman watched the sofa burn up, hypnotised. Molly was still screaming, but she eventually ceased. Now Herman only had a few minutes to talk to Olly and Davie.

Quickly he ran to the storeroom. Both boys were sobbing. Herman unlocked the door, and walked into the storeroom.

"I love you two. My little boys. I'm sorry. I am so sorry, but it's the only way."

Ironically, both boys were holding their clay animals. Herman needed them. "I need those clay figures..." he mercilessly took them.

Olly ashamedly looked down at Herman's awful foot. "I'm sorry dad. I'm sorry too." Olly hugged Herman, and as he did so, Herman stabbed him in the base of his head - killing him instantly.

Herman couldn't hold back his final tear. Davie backed into the corner, and Herman kissed his young forehead.

"I love you son." And with that, he slit Davie's throat.

Herman realised it was getting hot, and ran from the door. The flames swallowed up more and more of the house. Herman found a bag, and took his clay figures into them.

He dashed to the kiln room, almost tripping on Brenda. But he reached the cupboard, taking all of the other figures he had made.

The smoke was filling his lungs quickly, and he sprinted from that bungalow faster than he had ever ran before.

Herman sat outside the Bungalow, covered in blood from five people. He had a great rush of ecstacy from his killings, and he sat there, in the damp muddy ground, almost naked.

He sat with his burns on show. His mad grin shining through.

Madness had taken yet another man this day.


 * Epilogue ***

And, that's how we found him. There was a very complicated court hearing, but eventually he was deemed insane. He would never admit it, but the jury knew from his complete lack of attention and his tendency to sing at court.

Herman was here. He was in safe hands - a deeply broken man. I was just there for work experience, at Warrington Mental Assylum. But Herman was my first case study.

They believed he had just gone mad and was charged with the murder of his wife and the manslaughter of his children. They believed he had murdered her from her broken jaw, but everyone else did not seem to be injured, so they assumed he had accidentally killed the children, not realising they were in the house as he was so dillusional.

People cannot comprehend that anyone would want to kill their children. But Herman had.

And now he's escaped. I grew close to him in my many years working in the assylum. I am a claymaker myself and openly complimented his works. He wouldn't talk you see, so I tried an informal approach, a tactic I had learned in psychology class.

I learned his story, and like I said before. I am warning you. He is on the loose. Only God knows where he is.

Nothingthatmuch (talk) 21:53, June 12, 2014 (UTC)