Murder I Wrote

Murder I Wrote

Chapter 1

The Night I Die

My alarm starts buzzing as my eyes are shut, and my ears ring from the sound waves bouncing around in their canals. I lay on my right side, on a feather-and-springboard bed. My head rests on two large feather pillows, stacked atop one another. They're soft and relaxing, but as time proves, the wear and tear of the casing causes the feathers to poke through and scratch my face.

I erect my body, my eyes shooting open; I can literally feel the bags sag from beneath them. I look around my room; dim sunlight shoots through the windows and wooden shutters behind me, just above my baseboard. It's warm, which is alright, but it's a nuisance as it beams onto my eyes, making me turn my head away.

I look around the room, as the alarm still blares its annoying tone, and I glare at it on my desk. It sits just on the corner of my oak desk, which has seen better days. The clock is black in color, and holds a picture of a brunette woman holding her legs to her chest, as if in the fetal position. The numbers on the clock read '5:30 AM', which means it's time to get up, get dressed, and get ready for a boring day of school.

I quickly slide off my bed, onto my feet, and click a button on the alarm, shutting it up. I sigh as I look at my ratty desk, and eye the many carvings I put into it in my adolescence. Most of them are just lines from digging my pens in the oak. Others are from knives and read curse words on it.

Along with all those carvings, I have my blue binder filled to the brim with papers already, which sits on the farther side of the desk. Above that there are shelves with various pens, books, and my favourite plushie of Knuckles the Echidna. How I love Sonic, still, even at my age.

So-forth, I walk over to my dresser, which lays just in front of my bed, but against the wall. On it lays a Blu-Ray/DVD player and a thirty-two inch plasma-screen TV. I'm not one to like televisions, really. I just use mine for gaming, anyways; which eventually burns images into the screen. The dresser is also made of oak, and has five drawers on it. I open the top drawer, pulling out a fresh pair of boxer-briefs, moving onto the third drawer down, pulling out khaki pants and a white golf shirt, with the symbol of a lance on the left breast.

Yeah, I go to a school with uniforms. It's no biggy, since they’re comfortable and I do enjoy wearing them. I slide off my boxers I wore beforehand, immediately sliding on my new ones. Eventually, I put on my uniform pants that are a bit too tight for me, and throw on my shirt. I nod in satisfaction as I button up my shirt, and open the door that lays directly in front of my bed.

My door leads out to a normal hallway with two rooms to my left, my brother sleeping in the one at my immediate left and my parents sleeping in the one just about three meters away. A closet sits between the rooms, and my bathroom is straight down the corridor. To my right is a staircase, and a large, green chest that looks like it's from the 1940's, with its older design and hand-crafted wood. The hallway is padded down with carpet, and all the carpet in each room is the same, except for in my parents' room.

Heading to my bathroom, I go over my morning routine: brush, shave, deodorize. I never shower in the mornings unless I really have to. I leave showering for the night before, so no one is woken up by the sound of a sputtering showerhead shooting against plastic.

My bathroom is small and plain. It has vinyl flooring, meant to look like mahogany wood, with a diamond-shape texture to it. The bathtub sits to the right of the door, bearing a blue shower curtain and a plastic film that stops the water from escaping. The sink sits to my left, just a little out of the doorway's path. It has a decent sized mirror, about one by one-and-a-half meters in dimension. The sink is a plain marble sink, with a hook-like faucet; an assortment of razors, toothbrushes and toothpastes lay upon it.

"Better get ready." I yawn as I walk to the sink, turning on the tap water and beginning my daily routine.

*

After about thirty minutes, I finish shaving -- with no cuts, thank God --, brushing my teeth, and making myself smell good. I head down the stairs, which make a light creak as I step on each of them, and arrive at the foot of the staircase. I walk to the kitchen, which is at the immediate foot, just through another hallway, and go straight to the fridge.

The fridge is a big, white, double-door fridge. Underneath it lays a drawer-freezer that holds all our meats and boxed foods. The fridge sits just left of the entrance to the kitchen, in which a countertop to the right of it holds a sink, and a stove, as it corners around its small area. The kitchen is fairly small, only holding small sinks, cupboards above the sinks, a small electrical stove, a small dining table near the right of the entrance -- the glaze of which is shimmering within the morning sunlight -- and a teak-wood China cabinet to the immediate right.

I open the fridge, looking upon my bagged lunch. The bag looks like a giant mini-cooler, but it does keep my food fresh and protected. It's basically a rectangle about twenty centimeters in height, and thirty centimeters wide. It has a zipper lid, and on the lip is a black handle that allows the user to hold it. But, on the handle is a note, labelled:

Carl, don't forget to take your pill. Sorry I can't drive you to the stop this morning. Was called in earlier. Love you! xoxox

"Typical Mom." I smile as I take the lunch out of the fridge, closing the fridge doors.

I take the note off and toss it onto the dining table. I walk out of the kitchen, and head to my immediate left, where my two-by-three meter foyer sits. I grab my shoes from the rack that sits on my left, and then I open the closet that sits on my right. I pull out a black Reebok bookbag, and stuff my lunch 'box' into it.

"Ah, shit...forgot my binder and glasses. Oh, and my pill...” I run upstairs back to my room as I quietly talk to myself.

I grab my binder from the desk, and my glasses as well, which were hiding behind the binder. They're a dark shade of blue with square lenses. I think it increases my attraction level by about twenty percent. Boosts my self-confidence, maybe. I put my glasses on, being able to see twenty-twenty again, and run back downstairs.

I head back into the kitchen, and grab a pill bottle that lays on the counter. It's labelled with my name, Carl, and the drug type: 'Cipralex'. It's an anti-depressent, and I have to take it daily; I pop it open and grab two pills from the bottle. I toss them in my mouth, swallowing and gagging on the horrible taste the pills have, then closing the bottle up.

I put the bottle back, head to the small foyer, sling my bookbag onto my back, and pick up my binder. I open the large, white, oak door, and walk outside. The sun is just shimmering above the tree line, making it easy to see now.

"Time for school." I sigh a bit, and start heading off.

*

The good part is, I'm out of school. Bad part is, my parents are home. Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents to death. But, sometimes, I like my privacy. I walk into my house and kick off my shoes. My mother appears from the kitchen at my right. She has short, slightly curly, brunette hair, and green eyes. She's about six-foot-two, at least, and she has an alright body for a woman who's about forty-eight.

"Hey, bud, how was school?" she asks, smiling as she crosses her arms.

" 'Boring'! " my dad yells from the living room, which is just down the hallway I'm now standing in.

"It was good. Was done with all my work before anyone else in each class, so I was pretty bored most of the day." I drop my bookbag on the ground in the hallway, and make my way to the living room.

The living room has two couches, both about four meters in length and made out of a red, leather-like material, but which almost has a cotton feel to it. One couch sits near the entrance of the hallway, and the other sits just left of it, against the wall where pictures of our family hang. There is a large oak cabinet sitting just near the sliding doors that lead to the patio. To my left sits a fake fireplace, crafted out of sturdy oak, and a seventy-inch plasma-screen. Just under the TV lies our stereo system, DVR, and DVD player.

"Going to your dungeon, now?" my dad asks jokingly.

"Yeah, gotta slay the dragons," I retort; he just shakes his head, laughing.

I turn to my left and open a door. It takes a bit of force to open, but it opens up to reveal a staircase with red, cotton carpet. I walk down the stairs that creak just like the other staircase, and am greeted by my beautiful computer sitting on a large, marble-and-oak table. To the left of me sits a giant assortment of over five-hundred DVD's, and somewhere around one hundred games for various consoles.

I walk in a bit further, aiming for my computer. My brother’s guitars are all on display down here, along with his three amps that sit near my computer. He has acoustic and electric guitars, mostly, all paid for by himself. There's a 'living space' to my far left, with an adjustable couch that can turn into a bed or a recliner, three lamps surrounding the sixty-four-inch television, and a record player that sits next to the TV.

I sigh, shaking my head at my brother’s things, thinking about how much he annoys me with them. I go to my computer -- which is an OMNI-120 HP model! -- and turn it on. In about ten seconds flat, I'm greeted by humanized Pinkie Pie as my background.

She has gentle curves, and slightly meaty legs. On her outer thighs, almost hips, lays her cutie mark. Once can see that she is laying on a bed, on top of her tail and hair, which are curled and are a bright pink colour. Her eyes are a large, anime-style squared-circle, and a light blue colour; her right hand is just laying above her left breast, as the side of her arm pokes into her right breast. Her other hand is just laying upwards against the bed. I love this background so much.

"Ten outta ten, would fuck," I murmur with a chuckle as I open up my Google Chrome browser.

"Time for ponies," I say, clicking on a tab and typing in a hyperlink.

*

Time flies while having fun. Or ponies. Or both! It is basically was ten o'clock, so I have to shut off my computer, taking one last look at the wondrous Pinkie Pie that lays on the bed in its background. I head all the way upstairs, finally taking off my uniform and tossing it across my small room.

I sprawl myself across my bed in the darkness, only my alarm illuminating the shadows. I immediately close my eyes, waiting for the Sandman to put me to sleep. I sigh lightly, as I think of all the fun I have with enjoying My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic and its fanbase. It really cheers me up.

I turn over and rest my head on my pillow. After about thirty minutes, I fall asleep, my mind drifting off to dreamland.

*

All I feel is a sharp pain ripping through my chest, over and over.For a moment I was still sleeping, breathing, alive. And then I wake up. Not anywhere in my body. I am floating aside it. As I look up, I see someone. Someone familiar. Someone who I thought was my friend. It is a bit dark to see, but I can barely make out the details. He has short, brown hair. His skin has a slight tan to it, and he is fairly tall -- probably about six feet -- hanging over me; blood covers both his hands, mostly his right, in which a kitchen knife is held.

This person, I thought was a friend, is Myles. I can't believe this...how did he get here...? How did he get in? I wonder if my parents are okay... As much as I want to check, something else has a different plan for me. I feel a rippling sensation in my chest, and then a pull.

Everything passes by so quickly. I am eventually torn from the Earth, flying out and away from my house, into the sky, into space, and then outside of the universe itself. It is an endless darkness; that's all it is.

"This is our afterlife...?" I question to no one, my voice having an echo to it.

I sigh, as I just stan--...er, 'float' there. It seems all the stories of our afterlife is were just phonies. There is no God...no Heaven...no Hell... not even a Purgatory! Just...darkness! All those years believing...and I end up withering away in the shadows...

"You are wrong. There is an afterlife, for you, my child." A voice booms throughout the darkness.

Everything begins shaking. Whether it is natural, or supernatural, I can’t tell. I hear things falling. The space I am in feels as if it is crushing me. But instead, it seems to be opening something. I see a shimmering light through a crack. It keeps splitting and splitting, pulling me towards it as if it were a black hole!

As I near it, I feel my body begin break. I don't know how a 'ghost' can feel, but somehow, it hurt. I scream in agony. I don’t know what to do, other than take in the everlasting pain.

But after only a minute...everything is changed.