Sixteen, Irish, I love writing fiction and adventure stories. I'm very passionate about my writing, I want it as a career and it means a whole lot to me.

Message to Readers

A horror piece I wrote and forgot about, not finished whatsoever. I'd love any opinion!

The Strangers

May 7, 2016



This was a nightmare. A whole day writing. Not one page written.
I lifted my eyes from the harsh glare of the computer screen, and squinted in the darkness of my room. When I had sat down to write, it was bright outside, but after hours of failed ideas and uninteresting plotlines, the sky had become a velvety black, enveloping the room. I blinked a few times, watching the fuzzy shapes morph around me, trying to decipher them, giving my eyes time to adjust from white document to dim surroundings.

My hand lifted from the keyboard, the twenty-six letters that had been taunting me for the last few hours, and fumbled on the desk to my left for a can of Pepsi I knew was sitting there. I took a long, slow sip. Flat, and warm. But it quenched my thirst. I summoned the strength to drag myself off of my bag, dragging the bed cover with me. I flipped on the light switch, only for the bulb to flicker out the minute it lit up. Drat, I thought. I'd have to text Eugene about the electricity bill. I didn't know if that was the problem. I didn't know a whole lot about light bulbs. Electricity was always something my Dad dealt with, when I lived with him and my mom. And my brother, of course.

Having the thought of my brother shoved into my mind, I decided to dwell upon the subject, however unpleasant it might make me feel before bed. I recalled his most recent endavours as I readied myself for settling down. He was always turning to Eugene and I for cash. I'd told him to stay away from Eugene time and time again. But whenever I refused to fork over the cash, it was who he went to. Eugene had a big heart, he couldn't bear to watch people beg him. He usually complied, even though he knew exactly what his money would be spent on. Heroin. My brother was a big addict, ever since teenage years. In his early thirties now, I was surprised he hadn't been arrested yet. He hung around with a shady crowd back then, and still, all of his 'friends' were just about as out of it as he was.

I always felt partially guilty for Alex when he came knocking on our doorstep. I had always wondered if he was the only reason our parents divorced or if I was part of the equation as well. I wasn't exactly a perfect child. I mooched, refused to follow instructions, didn't do my homework, and my grades were the biggest joke in the history of education. I refused to work harder. I knew what I wanted to do, and no fancy college could help me. Unfortunately, as I discovered, there was few college courses for budding musicians when I finally got out of school. I quickly realised that my career choice was a poor one, after the lead singer of our shitty teen band left due to breaking up with her boyfriend, the guitarist. We all sort of fell apart after that. I've never really had any real friends since I was a teen, except for Eugene.

I climbed into my bed, letting out a big yawn. I curled and uncurled my toes, trying to find some warmth beneath the covers. It may have been April, but it was bloody freezing out. I snuggled down into the mattress, trying to get my head on the pillow comfortably. I had just begun to drift off, when a loud noise yanked me from my dreamland, and made me jump.

There was a loud knock on the door of the apartment.

I sat up immediately, rubbing my eyes. Who would be calling at this time?? It couldn't be Eugene, he was gone to visit his parents for a week...I felt a little fear rise in my stomach, churning around anxiously. The one week I was here by myself, and somebody knocks on the door late at night...Who could it be...? I grabbed my phone, checking the time. Two-thirty AM. Really?? I gazed at my bedroom door, closed and shrouded in darkness. Should I even bother to answer?

Another series of knocks sounded, louder, more frantic. My hands gripped the sides of the bed hard. Oh God...Oh God, what was it? I shook the covers off of myself, and got out of bed, my socks still on. Eugene would always say it was a crime against humanity to wear socks in bed. I really wished he was here...I opened my bedroom door, which let out a very loud, cliched creek. I pushed away the growing unease in my gut, laughing to myself a little. It was probably a neighbour or something. I took a deep breath, and strode bravely down the hallway, opening the door to the kitchen area. I flicked on the light, and winced as it shocked my eyes. I paused before approaching the front door. I could just not answer...They'd go away, right?

A loud, threatening thump sounded from the other side of the door. Once. Twice. The door was shaking under the pressure of how it was being hit. My heartbeat jumped up into my throat, beating fast, and my breath caught. I ran up to the door, pressing myself against it as hard as I could.

“What the hell do you want?? Go away, I'll call the police!” I shouted, trying to sound as angered and intimidating as possible in my stupid little fairy voice. The thumping stopped immediately, and a familiar, slightly slurred voice replied to me.

“Max, open up. It's important.” Commanded Alex. I relaxed immediately. It was Alex. Of course it was Alex. I sighed, and unlocked the door, pulling him in. He stunk bad, like he hadn't showered in days, and his t-shirt was covered in miscellaneous stains that I didn't really want to know the origin of.

“Fine, you can come in. But I'm NOT giving you drug money. I told you I wouldn't any more, there's a reason Mum and Dad cut you off.”

“Max,” He started, “You don't understand!” His voice was different..High-pitched, jittery. He sounded worried. I felt a twinge of pain. Had his addiction gotten worse...? I needed to get him into rehab, somehow...I put a hand on his arm, gently. Sure, he was a massive screw-up...But he'd gone down the wrong path. I still wanted to help him.

“Sure I understand. You want it. You need it. But I can't give you money to smuggle drugs, Alex. I can't do that to you.” I looked up into his eyes, my own full of concern. I really wanted to ask him to stop all of this...To come back, live with Eugene and I, cure his addiction, get a job and maybe find a woman. But I knew he wouldn't. He didn't care. There was only one thing he cared about...There was no point asking him to do anything. I'd tried, we all had.

“No. MAX.” He shoved my arm off. I stepped back a little, hurt. Alex stepped forward, and grabbed both of my shoulders firmly in his hands.

“I NEED this money. Now. Give it to me.” I frowned, looking up at him. There was something off. Something was wrong. Even if he was desperate for money, he'd never push me around if I said no. He'd scamper off to ask somebody else...


“NOW.” He began to shake me, violently by my shoulders. I shrieked a little, trying to throw his hands off, but he was stronger than me.

“Alex STOP!” I screamed, struggling, quickly getting dizzy. I managed to hit his face, and pull away from him, backing up against the wall. Alex snarled, and stormed up to me.

“Give it to me. Give it.” He growled. I spotted a glint in his eyes, and tried to run to the phone, but it was too late. His fist came up, and punched me right in the nose. I cried out in pain, and ducked to avoid a second blow. I grabbed Alex by the hair, and yanked hard. He did not respond, instead wrapping both of his hands around my neck. My insides froze up. His grip was gentle, and his breath was shaking. Tears sprung to my eyes. He was actually going to...He...
“A-Alex...” I stuttered, grabbing his wrists with my own hands. I looked up into his eyes once more. An utter maniac stared back at me, emotionless.

“Money, Max. Now. One chance. One more chance, okay?” He snapped. I couldn't tear my eyes away from his. Sparks of insanity danced around inside of them. I could feel his hands trembling around my throat. It took me a couple of seconds to gather myself, and swallow my fear.


“NO. THAT'S IT.” He yelled, and his grip tightened. I choked helplessly, as the air from my lungs was forced out, and my windpipe closed. I clawed at his hands, whipping my head around, tried to bite him. I was losing consciousness quickly. I couldn't think. My legs flailed about underneath me, and one of them caught Alex in the crotch. He gasped in pain, and I seized my chance, kicking him a second time, and wrenching his fingers apart. I pushed away from the wall, gasping for breath, my vision blurred. I watched as a blob fell to his knees, moaning in pain. I stumbled to Alex's head, and kicked it, hard. Pain shot up my foot. I'd forgotten I was only wearing socks...It proved enough, and Alex yelled in pain again.

I breathed deeply, sucking in as much air as I could. My neck was throbbing with pain. I grabbed on to the edge of the kitchen table, needing support as I regained full vision. My emotions had not yet caught up with my body, but I knew they would soon...Alex had just tried to kill me. I knew what I had to do...I sprinted down the hall, and into my room, slamming the door shut. I put two hands on my chest of drawers, heaving it in front of the door. I grabbed my phone, and dialled for the police, sitting on my bed, panting.

The police took longer than expected to get here, and I was forced to listen to Alex pounding on my door for a full twenty minutes, silently crying to myself. He got more and more frustrated as I wouldn't answer him, his threats becoming more violent, more graphic. I tried to reply to him several times, but I couldn't, too shocked, too horrified. I heard a struggle as the police subdued Alex, and a quiet knock sounded on my door.

“Madam? You can come out now. He's gone.” I wiped my eyes, and tugged at the chest of drawers, squeezing myself out through the door. There were officers surrounding my small apartment, in small groups of two or three. I felt crowded, not used to so many people around me. I was still light-headed, and stumbled a little as I made my way into the kitchen. The policeman who had spoken to me stooped, and caught me before I tumbled over.

I can't remember all of what happened next. It came in short bursts of memory, flashes of small thoughts in my head. I was being lead out of my apartment by the arm, a soft voice telling me things would be all right. I was in the back of a police cruiser, evening street lights illuminating the bruises that had formed on my neck. I was sitting in an uncomfortable seat, my eyes staring blankly into a bleak mug of hot cocoa clutched in my hands. I took a deep breath, and looked up. Nobody had asked me anything yet, but I knew they were going to. I knew I had to tune in eventually. I pulled myself out of the shock that was gripping me, and faced the officer who'd escorted me to the station.

“Max, was it..?” He asked, his voice still soft, and comforting. His dark brown eyes were kind, empathetic. I nodded slightly.

“Thank you...Do you know who attacked you, Max?”

“Yes. My brother. Alex Martons.”

“Great...Well, no, not great, obviously. Just great that we know who he is. He's not taking kindly to his temporary cell...We've paperwork to do, then we'll move him upstate, to the prison.” I nodded again. I wasn't in the mood to talk, and this officer was too chatty for my liking.

For hours, there was question after question after question. The officer, James, was casual, comfortable to talk with, an easy man to trust. He never smiled, but his tones were ones of compassion. He cared about my situation, or if he didn't, he put up a pretty good performance. I answered everything honestly, and immediately. I just wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible. I wanted to go home, and call Eugene. I needed a friend's voice. Nothing else would comfort me right now. It was almost morning by the time they allowed me to go home. I thanked them, though I wasn't sure why, and gracefully accepted a lift home from Officer James. He reassured me as I left the car that nothing would happen to me- I was safe from my brother. I smiled tightly, and thanked him, honestly sick of talking to him about my brother's drug habits over the last thirty-two years. I walked quickly back up to the apartment, locking the door behind me. I let out a long, drawn-out sigh. As exhausted as I was, I had to call Eugene. I tugged my mobile out of its charger, and sat on the couch, dialling Eugene's number. Miraciulously, nothing had been broken or knocked over during my struggle with Alex. I relaxed a little, my legs ceasing their jumping as Eugene answered his phone.
“Y'ello? Maxie, that you?”
“Hey. Listen, something happened. Alex was over again, and he got pretty violent.”
“Are you serious? He's never shoved you or anything like that...”
“A little worse than that...”
“...Max...What did he do? Where is he now?”
“As far as I know, jail. Officer said he'd been charged with attempted assault. And possibly drug possession, once they search his apartment.”
“Oh jeez...Are you okay?”
“I'm fine. Just a little scared.”
“I leave the place for one bloody week...” I smiled a little. Eugene always knew how to lighten the mood.
“Well don't rush on my account.”
“You're kidding, right? I'll be back as soon as possible. Hang tight, Max.” Before I could protest, he had hung up. I shook my head a little, putting down the phone. I got up, and began to make myself some tea, looking skeptically at an open bag of Doritos sitting on the counter. I wondered if they were stale yet...And if I would still eat them, even if they were.


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  • May 7, 2016 - 4:19pm (Now Viewing)

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