User:Maniac Max

Maniac Max

The day seemed endless. Lesson after lesson after lesson. One of the joys of being Max. Everything to Max seemed long. Days, hours, minutes. Even a whole 30 seconds seemed like a lifetime to him. But this school day seemed a lot longer than usual. It was after his parents died when all this started. He was put into a care home and then taken his anger out in martial arts. He loved martial arts because when he fights, he pursues time longer than it actually is. So he can see an opponents move coming before it actually hits, this gave him a few seconds to think of a counter. For some reason he only pursued time longer some of the time. It was like a fifty fifty chance of it happening. On the first day of school, he shown of his skills against one of the biggest bullies, Jack. But that didn't earn him friends, it earned him a tittle. The title of 'Maniac Max'. He was sitting in maths, his favourite lesson, while being harassed by Jack and his gang behind the teachers back. It was the last lesson and Max couldn't wait to escape there contact.

When the bell rang at the end of the lesson Max was the last to leave. Every time he heard that bell, it brought back the memory of the worst moment in his life. The time he found out of his parents death. He was 7. He was sitting at home with his Nan, because his parents had left for their honey moon. That was when they heard a knock at the door. A tall man in a suit walked in, he had a stern expression and grey, gloomy eyes. His Nan and the man walked into the kitchen and shut all the doors. All he could hear was the words "I'm sorry, your son and his wife are..." he stopped. His Nan burst into tears. When they walked back in, his Nan kneeled by him. He couldn't understand. He was too young. "Max, Mummy and Daddy aren't coming back," wailed his Nan. He could understand this. That was when it all started. Max isolated himself from the world. Even his Nan. But it came worse when his Nan was mugged and murdered the next year. Ever since then his life was a living nightmare. He got moved to a care home where no one liked him, he would never talk and worst of all, he would hallucinate. It was all the same. He would see a tall, dark man wearing a black suit and a red tie. But he had no face. Just a pure white mask of flesh. He always thought it was a fragment of his imagination. He always thought it represented the man that told him about his parents death. But every now and again the man would have tendrils coming out his back. Trying to get to Max. But they never could get to him. Because Max could only see that man in reflections.

At the care home, Max always felt like everyone was against him. He would sit in his room, alone, writing and drawing. All of the drawings involved blood and gore. He loved it. Maniac Max, the axe murderer. It was a way, he supposed, of getting his anger out. "Perfect," he whispered, holding up the paper to admire his master piece. He was in an old building, a hotel, with that man. This time he had tendrils, and had his long, slender arm on Max's shoulder. He ripped the old picture out its frame and replaced it with his new one. He put it back on it's usual place, the bed side cabinet. This was the first time Max had drawn that man perfect. There was somthing about him that was hypnotising. Something that Max adored. Somthing that Max loved. That reminded him. Tomorrows his 14th birthday. He hated his birthday because no one cared about it here. Everyone got a birthday party except him. But when he turns 17 he can have a house to himself. He could be an axe murderer and no one would know. Just a few more years.

After dinner Max sat in his room once again. But he didn't do anything. He just sat there. Looking at the mirror. Staring at the man. Max was sitting on the bed alone, but in the mirror the tall, slender man was standing next to him. Tendrills fully extended, wrapping up Max in a tomb of black tentacles. But the thing that scared Max the most was that in his room, in the picture he drew earlier, Max had no eyes. Just black holes with drizzles of black blood spilling out. He instantly ripped up the photo and threw it out his window.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!" Screamed the whole orphanage at Max. "Thanks," muttered Max. He was surprised but didn't really care. "Why did you all of a suden care about me?" "We've always cared for you Max! You just didn't show it back," said Suzy, our carer. She smiled and so did everyone else. "Umm…… Thanks?" He said once again. He didn't know what to say. "Well?! Are you going to open them?!" Asked Kate. She was 15 and was very hyper active. Max walked over to the coulerfully wraped boxes and started to tear away the wrapping.

Once he unwrapped the last present he looked at what he got. He had an art book, some pens, pencils, ruler and some books. He smiled at everyone. And they smiled back. He didn't realise how much they cared for him. "Th-thank you," he said so full of joy. He hadn't felt like this in 7 years. But it was going to be ruined at school. And he knew.

It was the worst school day of his life. Jack kept throwing spit balls, threw his lunch on the floor and pushed him into the mud. Today wasn't his day. After school he sat on the swing in the local park and started thinking. Do they care about him at orphanage? Do the- "Well, well, well…" his thoughts were interrupted by a boy. A strong voice. Jack's voice. Max turned to look at him. Jack continued "So… What are you doing? Oh... Alone as usual?" He chuckled. That was when the voices started. Do it, kill him you can do it, your stronger than him, they said over and over again. No.. They were right but... Max... He wouldn't murder anyone. The voices were right. He was stronger. He could kill him... He could... That would mean no more Jack. No one would care… Would they? "No... I can't," Max said to himself. Jack giggled again. "Talking to yourself!?" He laughed so hard he started choking. Now!!!! The voices screamed. Max jumped up and tackled Jack to the ground. They rolled around in the dirt. Punching and kicking each other. Max jumped up and guarded his face. Jack hopped up in panic. Your Maniac Max! Said the voices. Do it!!!! Jack ran at him ready to tackle. Max spun, grabbed Jacks arm and flipped him over his shoulder. Jack howled in pain. Max had to find a weapon, and fast. There, a big rock, as big as his fist. He picked it up and jumped on Jack. He put his feet on Jack's wrists and sat on his chest. He raised the rock and brought it down on Jacks forehead. And again. And again. Until Jacks chest stopped moving. His head was a bloody pulp. He was covered in blood. What had he done. No… Max grabbed his head, nearly ripping out hair. "GET OUT MY HEAD!!!!!!!!" He screamed. That was when he got lifted of the floor. He started writhing in agony. It was like he was melting but staying in one piece. He got spun, twirling, shooting around the air howling and screaming. And he fell. Landing on his back. He stood. And giggled. He chuckled. He roared with laughter. His pupils grew and his mouth opened wide. He snapped his head back and stared at the sky laughing.

Max was nearly gone. Jack was right. He was alone. But… If he did what that the slender man said… Follow his orders… Max could be famous. He could be happy. He could have TV shows, movies, even books based about him. He could be happy. Everyone bullied Max. But no one would go against Maniac Max. Suddenly, saying those words in his head triggered something. As if that tall man was just waiting for this moment to take over. This was it. No going back. Max was now a puppet. A puppet called Maniac Max, and used for killing.

He sprinted to the ally and sat there looking for cover. There. An old abandoned shop. He put his hood up and wrapped the scarf around the lower part of his face. He sprinted from the ally and into the shop. No one saw. Perfect. He was in an old work store. It was filled with all sorts of killing weapons. But the perfect one was right there. An axe. He had to act fast. He grabbed the axe and ran to the window. All he could see was his reflection, and the tall man standing next to him. He looked left and realised that the man was real. Not a reflection. The man put his hand on Max's shoulder and let the tendrils wrap around him. Max closed his eyes and smiled. He's free. He's Maniac Max.

When Max got back to the orphanage, he had cleaned up his clothes at, a now dead, mans house. His axe was in the shed. He had to kill while under cover. "Where have you been?" Asked Suzy. "Oh... I was in detention," "For what?" "Oh... I got in a fight with a boy called Sam," Max turned and walked up the stairs, to his room. He smiled. When he got in his room he shut and locked the door. He could hear, from outside his window, all the sirens. It will only be a matter of time until they work out it's Max. So he needs to think smart.

A few weeks later, there was a knock at the door. A detective. Of course. The first one, but Max was ready. He walked down stairs and looked at the short woman in a brown coat. "Max," she started in a depressed tone "Your a main suspect for the murder of Jake Miles. I'm tolled he bullied you?" "Yeah," I quickly reply acting distraught. But he deserved to die.

"So.…" said the woman. Max and her were sat on the kitchen table. She had a cup of coffee and Max had a cup of tea. "Last question. Do you think he should have died?" It was all going exactly to plan. Max was acting all depressed and the detective was buying it. Max slammed his fists on the table and stood up, pushing his chair backwards. "No! Who do you think I am?! I got bullied by him sure, but that wouldn't give anyone the right to kill him!!!" "Thank you Max. Your information has given us an even bigger reason to suspect you. We found finger prints on the bloody stone. So if they match your's, we're going to charge you with murder," Max's face went pale. Charge him with murder!!! Where did he go wrong!? He had to act fast. Good thing he kept a small kitchen knife in his pocket. Max pulled his chair back to the table and sat down. As she scribbled in her note book, Max hooked his foot around her chair leg and got ready to pull. He pulled with all his might, her chair fell backwards and she screamed in shock. Max pushed the table aside and pounce on her. He jammed the knife into her chest repeatedly until she lay still. He ran out the back door and burst through the shed door. As he grabbed his axe, he pulled up his hood over his head and pulled the scarf up to cover the lower bit of his face. He stared at the kitchen and saw Suzy staring at him on horror, even though his scarf was in the way, she could tell he was smiling. And then jumped over the fence.

As Max arrived in the forest he looked around. Where was he? He thought. Then something long and black wrapped around his leg, pulling him into the trees. He spun around and saw the slender man pulling him in with his tendril. On the other seven tendrils he had children hanging from them. His tendril was wrapped around their necks and he was holding them in the air, like a cat showing it's kill. Max screamed, terrified. He knew that a demon would take control. That he had no say in his next actions. This was Max's end. And Maniac Max's beginning.

"News just in," said the news reporter. "The maniac axe killer, Max Charles, has been caught on camera. He wears a blue hoodie, brown jeans, and has a scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face. He was caught going into an orphanage in Wales' Caerphilly. If you see him, call the authorities. He is a lethal. Predator,"