Chucky-Like

I am yet to begin. 

I'm just taking my time. It ain't easy but to see them laughing and smiling and jumping and all sort of excitement keep getting on my unnerved nerves. 

I've been resisting the sharp blade, feeling my hands holding the sleek handle in a firm grip had been my satisfaction all along.

I knew I could do it, Just few years more and I would be free to do anything I want. 

I grin rather noticeably whenever I think of my dream. Yeah, I have it all planned out already, I'm gonna get an apartment, a spotless one. Constant power supply and always running water.

I'm gonna get some nice chains and some nice blades, furnish it with a refrigerator or two, install soundproof system and lest I forget, it would have a nice and big backyard. 

“I can't watch it at night it is so scary, it creeps me out and makes me have nightmares,” one of my classmates said breaking my flow of thought.

I hissed.

They were on it again, always hyping the Chucky-movies.

You know Chucky, right?

If you don't know Chucky, you obviously aren't a good horror writer. 

Okay then, what about Annabelle? You don't know her too, ohh, what kind of horror have you been watching!

I haven't watch all the movies about Chucky too, I watched Curse of Chucky last week, after the over-hyping by my classmates, I actually slept off on the boring movie. I already borrowed Cult of Chucky to watch today when my parents are done with their frustrating NewsWatch.

“I don't watch such movies, why watch a movie that makes me restless, depriving of a good night sleep,” Sean said. He was the class monitor, rich kid. He had the brains also but I care less about all those things. If only I could bee seeing real and organic crimson everyday, not the paints in those movies, I would absolutely feel above the world.

“It is what it is, I love them regardless,” Ralph said, he was the one that always uses his pocket money to buy movies and after watching them, rents them out to us classmates.

I actually hate Chucky. 

Like seriously, I hate the short guy passionately, he is over-hyped like I have said, he might have excellent killing moves and styles but then I believe, nah, I know rather, that I can kill better than him. If only I was given the opportunity to show the movie producers that they don't need those animations and probs that I was a living actor of that particular role and I could perform it better but then who is crazy to do so. They all prefer the guy with that cute face of his. His scary face was actually silly to me and inefficient, I can fast a much more devilish face but then I need to watch all of his movies so as to gain mastery of this subtle act of taking life.

———

Mama made the meal rather late that night and Papa came late making us wait for him before we could eat our meals. I was angry at the prospect, I was eager and anxious to get to the movie but then after meal, they both sat to relax in the sitting room to watch the daily news. It was frustrating as I had to wait for the albino newscaster whose face I wished to adorn with the warm scarlet fluid, to finish with all the chit-chat about the state of the country.

Soon both Mama and Papa dozed off.

“Papa,” I touched the old man, I could feel the hotness of his breath, he would began his usual pig-like snoring in a matter of minutes.

“Huhnn,” he rubbed his eyes.

“You should go and sleep inside,” I said.

“Ohh, what time is it?”

“It's few minutes to 11,” I said getting impatient.

He stood up and gently tapped Mama's shoulder. 

“Dear, let's go and sleep inside,” he said. The stinking woman stood up as they both went to their room slowly, 

“Laike.”

“Sir,” I answered.

“Don't stay too long with the TV, you know you've got school tomorrow.”

“Yes sir.”

“Goodnight,” He said.

“Goodnight, Laike,” Mam said.

“Goodnight,” I responded and took out the diskette from underneath my seat.

The movie was rolling in a matter of seconds.

As much as I hate the little guy, his hideousness never cease to amaze me, I was held in awe throughout the movie, it was entertaining and inspiring rather than horrific. I actually found nothing horrifying about the movie but the Chucky character was good. 

I switched off the TV and other appliances as the casts and crew rolled by.

I made it to my room and tucked myself to get some sleep but immediately I shut my eyes, my clothes closet shook vigorous. I didn't count it as anything at Fort but when it continued, I stood up to confront whatever it was.

I wasn't one to be scared. I took the pen knife I brought during my last birthday and didn't hesitate before opening the door.

It was a lifeless CHUCKY doll.

I laughed. I think am dreaming, or...

I looked at it again.

It was still, there a mischievous grin forming on his face. I carried it up, I could actually take it to school and show my classmates. I would be revered, I thought.

In a flash, he snatched my pen knife and slashed my hand, I dropped it immediately

I winced, kicking the doll. His usual devilish laugh echoed in my room.

I pinned him down, my hands on his throat. I forced the pen knife out of his hand.

“Killing you would be easy, I hate—” 

He bashed my head with the sharp end a bottle that laid on the floor. I bled, a kick in the navel and I felt my intestines groan.

Bastard!

The doll ran out of the room as I pursued it with the knife. I kept on following it in the darkness, how I found my way in the darkness without knocking things over was beyond me.

I was blinded with anger.

The cruel laugh rang through the house again as he entered a room.

I doubled my pace and caught him, pin him on the bed in the room, he laughed again without struggling. 

I laughed too, mine thundered through the whole street as I plunge the pen knife into his stomach, the red fluid splattered all over me as I remove the knife. I stabbed it again.

He groaned, struggled with me and rolled over to the other side of the bed. 

I resisted his movements, taking joy in his pain, I jumped after him and stabbed him more, more and more.

It took awhile before I stopped, I was soiled with blood, the doll opened his eyes again, laughed loudly and disappeared.

I staggered down the bed, the knife still in my hand, I made way to my room and had a good night rest.

I didn't wake up till the afternoon of the next day, Mama hadn't woken me up. I wondered what happened.

Mama, Papa, I shouted a si made way to their room.

I opened the door to meet a gory sight of Mama and Papa in dried blood.

I tried to interpret the scene, I chuckled.

My ministry had began too soon.

———

I stood outside the house, drenched in the rain as I waited for the police, they would never find the evidence connecting me to their murders, not after I have tampered with them all.

I chuckled again, those guys are so unlucky, I couldn't care less, they were my foster parents after all.