Suspense Thriller Fiction

I skipped on the sidewalk, basket in hand, a white dress covered with fake blood draped on my bony frame. A deep crimson tiara adored my head, a white faceless mask covering my thin features. 

I knocked from door to door, candy slowly filling my basket. When the people opened their door, I took off my mask, blinding them with my sweet smile. I said, “Trick or Treat!”, laughed, and said thanks, like any good girl would do.

My true intentions were hiding under my mask of innocence. 

I blurred past the houses, acting delighted as the homeowners gave me candy. They gushed at my costume, their adoring eyes following me as I skipped past their lawn.

Slowly, my basket became too heavy. I sat it down on the sidewalk, spilling the gummies and chocolates and lollipops on the ground, knowing a greedy kid would come along and snatch it. I left a little in the bucket, just for appearance. 

As I walked, I saw other kids, all showing off expensive store-bought costumes, clutching their parent’s hands, eating candy as they walked, their eyes a little crazy from the sugar. The parents scolded the kids, saying they shouldn’t eat so much at a late hour, but the kids ignored them. 

I smiled at everyone who walked past me, putting my mask in my bucket. As I smiled, they stopped and smiled back, clearly shocked at my beauty. I smirked to myself as I went to Mrs. Hower’s house.

I knocked, and when she opened, held out my basket and shouted, “Trick or Treat!”

“Aw, you look adorable, sweetheart,” she gushed, giving me a fistful of candy. 

I smiled, my eyes showing her affection. “Thank you, miss!”

She smiled back, and before she could close the door, I asked,

“Do you happen to know where Mr. Waler’s house is?” 

She paused, looking horrified.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why ever would you want to go there?”

I shrugged. “Oh, he’s an old family friend. My mom needs a favor from him.”

The meaning was correct, though the words were deceiving.

“Well, in that case, just follow the road and take two rights. His house is at the end of the street, darling.”

I bowed my head, the crown tilting slightly up. 

“Thank you so much, Ma’am,” I said, smiling as I walked down her porch.

I could feel her worried eyes as I left her line of vision, and as soon as I did, I burst into a sprint.

It was late enough that only a few people were still out, but they didn’t even notice me. I was too fast, running in the shadows.

Soon enough, I reached his house. An old place, the paint chipping off, not a single light or flower near his house. My heart pounded as I walked up the driveway, but not out of fear. 

I got to the door and knocked cheerfully, forcing a smile on my face. My mind was whirling as the door opened, and my breath stopped, my smile slipping off.

It was him.

His long, oily hair framed his face like an ugly photo frame. His small eyes squinted at me, a very dull brown. He was short, a little taller than me. A deep scowl carved into his thin lips. His body was as thin as a skeleton, his face worn down and beaten by disease.

I knew of his illnesses and lavished in them. He would be weak, not having the same ferocity he used to. I could use that to my advantage.

He looked at me in loathing, and when he looked at my face, was shocked by what he saw. He managed a small smile, even though it made him look more sinister.

Hate bubbled in me, threatening to burst. Red clouded my vision, and the handle of my basket dug into my skin. I resisted the urge to jump at him, hurt him as much as he hurt me…

But no, I reminded myself. I had a job to do. And I had to do it fast.

All this happened in a second before I regained myself, making my face look serene and pretty. I beamed at him, and, if he had better eyesight, he would realize the malicious intent of the smile, the thoughts that triggered it. 

“Trick or treat!” I exclaimed, holding out my basket. I smiled my best smile, a smile I reserved for him. He looked shocked and flustered, and immediately said,

“Sorry kid, I don’t have any candy.”

“Oh,” I said, pouting. I dipped my basket towards my knee, my mask rearranging itself to look disappointed. I turned my back to him and walked away, my face suddenly smirking. 

I heard him shut the door and I quickly ran down the steps, waiting until he was completely inside, and crossed his lawn, standing on my tiptoes to look into his house through the grimy window.

I watched him, completely concealed in the shadows. I saw him go upstairs, his back slightly hunched as he disappeared. I frowned, wondering about the cause of his obvious distress. 

No time to worry about his well-being. I had limited time.

I dug my fingernails between the window cill and the mushy brick of the house, knowing fully well that it would be unlocked.

He didn’t fear burglars or murderers. They feared him. 

The window slid open with a loud groan. I winced, trying to search for any signs that he’ll come downstairs. 

So far, so good.  

I jumped nimbly through the small crack of the window, absorbing the impact with my shoulder before straightening up. The dank smell assaulted my nose, hate burning the inside of my body, temporarily leaving me trembling furiously, my hand clenched. 

The hate overwhelmed me, crashing me to the ground, surrounding me. I let it run loose. I haven’t felt hate so powerful for years, and it felt good, good to know, that through all that happened to me, I will never ever forgive, never forget.

The hate raged around me. By the time I resurface, I will not be a sweet, innocent girl, laughing and smiling to please others. I will be a demon of madness and fury, my scowl strong enough to make the strongest man waver with fear.

I tried to take a deep breath, choking on my rage. Tears sprang in my eyes, tears of loathing, ferocity. 

I stood for a moment, trying to reign the hate in. The more patient I was, the sweeter the moment will be. I will be allowed to release my inner demons on the person whom I detest the more. 

I walked slowly, nimbly, through the room, reaching the stairs. Though I couldn’t see my face, I knew what I looked like, how I would appear to others.

I would look like Satan himself.

I walked up the stairs, making sure not to make a single sound. I smiled as I walked, knowing how near the moment is. Knowing the pleasure I would feel, maybe enough it satisfy my malicious intents. 

I reached the bleak hallway, and immediately heard the deep breathing of a man from down the hall, hidden behind a thin wooden door.

I walked, leaving my basket at the foot of the stairs. I ripped off my crown, throwing it to the floor, using my foot to smash it into tiny pieces. 

I finally reached his door, and judging by his breathing, guessed he was asleep. Well, I would have to wake him up.

I opened the door and saw the man lying in his bed, his eyes closed and his ashy skin deathly pale. 

He looked like a corpse. 

I smiled at the irony.

I walked over, close enough so I was right beside him. My excitement dominated my fury, temporarily reigning it in.

I stretched my fingers, gently stroking his sallow cheek. His breathing staggered, but his eyes remained closed, his skin ice cold.

My fingers skimmed over his face, once, twice, before I set my palm a foot away from his face, and, recalling my fury, smacked it into his face with pure rage and spite that has been stored for three years, unbearably strong. 

His entire body was thrown from the bed, crashing to the floor. His eyes snapped open, his hands immediately to his cheek, now a glowing red.

He jumped to his feet, his face blazing. His old self seemed to shine through this weak man’s body. He looked at me and snarled, but immediately stuttered and backed away in fear, my glare breaking through his body, searing every bone that made this Satanic man. 

I walked to him, slowly, my hands pulling out a long, silver blade that was concealed in the folds of my dress. 

His back pressed to the wall as I sat the blade on the bed, walking closer to him. His eyes flickered from the dagger to my face, wondering if he could get it, but my murderous expression warned him to not move. 

I was less than a foot from him, and I suddenly smiled, all hostility leaking from my expression. He seemed even more shocked.

I was now inches from his face. I looked up, smiling like an angel.

A demon angel.

“Hello,” I crooned. Then I connected my fist with his face.

He fell to the ground. I joined him, punching every surface, every sliver of skin I could find. Blood slowly soaked into his clothes. His lips were torn and bloody, his face now just a crimson mask. There were many rips in his skin, places where I clawed him viciously. He thrashed wildly, trying to escape from my grip.

I was much too strong for him. 

I punched and punched, the fury I have been containing for years now unleashed, all of it targeted to this man. 

Tears streamed down my cheeks. I was practically choking on my sadness and hatred. My mother, a kind woman, a loving woman- she didn't deserve her fate.

I did get some pleasure in destroying this man, but it would never be enough.

No one was worthy of my mother.

I got up, backing away from him. He was now unidentifiable, his pale skin now a deep red. His eyes widened with horror as I took the hilt of the dagger. 

“No,” he pleaded. “Please.”

I smiled without humor. My mother uttered the same words to him before the bullet raced into her skull. 

Right before the blood emptied around her, leaving her empty.

Right before my screams, before his laugh of pleasure as he vanished, leaving me with an empty shell of the woman I loved and adored. 

How fitting that these were his last words, words directed to his victim’s daughter. 

I walked into his pool of blood, my feet wet and cold, my already blood-stained dress now more pronounced. I kneeled, placing the point of the blade to the surface of his chest. He began thrashing madly, and I smiled wider. 

“Goodbye,” I purred. 

Then I plunged the dagger into his soft flesh, and his body was still, his eyes still wide with shock as his soul left the world, joining Satan in Hell.

October 30, 2021 00:02

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Anna Mahoney
20:06 Nov 06, 2021

Hi Veda. Your great way with words brings this revenge story alive. I really liked seeing your unlikeable protagonist morph into a sympathetic character as you revealed more of her back story, despite the horror element. I think it would be an even more striking piece of work with fewer adjectives and adverbs throughout and use of more active voice, for instance in the fifth para from end instead of saying, the fury I have contained for years, simply saying, the fury of years. Just a suggestion, because, overall, well done!


Valerie Robinson
02:52 Nov 08, 2021

Hi Anna! I am an alter account, so still, so same person :) I really appreciate your kind words, and the suggestion. Thank you so much! Btw, I'm glad you liked the story😁😃


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