Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-27452101-20160515130102

No, this isn't some kind of fake post. It is intended to be a micropasta, however it is pretty extended. I couldn't think of a title, but anyway:

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I've always lived in the beautiful home of mine, up in the Adirondacks for over thirty years. My house was a little isolated; with only two houses on either sides of me, with many trees covering up my home, shielding it from most sunlight. I had a big well in the back as well, helping the water in the pipes stay all year, otherwise our home would be a seasonal.

The most notable thing about my house, however, was the leaky toilet in our second story. I've lived with my mother and father until I was twenty, where I decided to go off to college for four years, and nobody knew who was the one causing the leakage, but we all dealed with it.

Eventually, my mother and father gave me the house they formerly lived in, moving on to a small apartment down in the city, while I was relaxing in my old home. I wasn't married yet, so I lived alone. The leaky toilet still remained, I figured out that I was the one that was causing the leakage.

One day, however, in the middle of August, the toilet was leaking a reddish liquid. I knew it wasn't blood because it was not coming out in chunks, instead it was liquidy and fast moving. I decided to call someone from the nearby plumbing department, just because I have never seen this red liquid.

The plumber eventually came; it was a former guy who used to bully me in elementary through middle school, his name being Jack. I decided to take him upstairs to the bathroom, showing him the reddish liquid. He told me that some of the nutrients from the dirt might be leaking into the well.

We decided to go outside to the well. Both of us looked into the well, with Jack seeing the bodies that I killed, as the rotting corpses brought out a stench that would make you vomit, but I did not vomit. Jack thought I was going crazy, and pushed me. Eventually, I pushed him backwards, with Jack falling into the well, as I heard a loud crack and some moaning as he hit the bottom.

Jack was still alive, so I decided to leave him down there; the blood slowly leaking out of him as his dark skin slowly began to turn pale. I decided to put the wood board over the well to make sure I did not leave any clues, and I also shut my door, deciding to stay home for the day.

One day, however, in the beginning of September, the toilet was leaking a reddish liquid. I knew it was blood because I killed Jack, and it was coming out in chunks and moving slowly. I smiled at the sight of this, due to me finally getting revenge on one school bully.

Hey, I know a guy who used to pick on me as well in middle school, I'll call him! He is a plumber. 