The House of Dark Memories
By Rickie Burney

Imagine yourself brutally butchering your parents with an axe. Then picture yourself going to a mental institution for ten years. When you are released, you are well. There is only one problem. The house brings back memories of the past. Now it has come back to haunt you. You are tempted to start another bloodbath. All this has happened to me. I will explain everything to you in this story.

All of this actually started on the day I turned thirteen. My name is Mark Craven, and my life was what every teenager dreaded. I was physically and emotionally abused. I was unloved and unwanted. I knew that my family wished that I had never been born. I was blamed and punished for things I did not do. Mike, my brother, was just the opposite of me. He recieved everything he wanted and had almost everything in the store. If he wanted a new pair of shoes, he was going to get some. My parents seemed to think that he could not do anything wrong. He was never punished for his actions. Instead, I was the one who was punished. I found that unfair, but my word in the house never counted. If they had their way, they wouldn't feed me. They gave me the cheapest and the tackiest clothes in the store. Mike recieved the expensive and stylish kind. I couldn't say that I wanted what Mike had. I knew that it would result in severe punishment.

I soon became infuriated with them. I decided to put a stop to it. When everyone was in the family room watching television, I excused my self and walked outside. I then headed to the shed and grabbed the axe. I walked back into the house and crept into the family room. I had to take them by surprise. I didn't want them to scream. The noisier it was the more attention they would attract. As I drew nearer, I rose the axe in the air. Mike seemed to feel my presence. He immediately spun around and pointed to me. Before my father could do anything, I brought the axe down on the top of his head. He grunted and placed his hands over the gash in his head. Blood flowed like a
fountain.

My mother stood in the background screaming. I couldn't let her get away. She was just as guilty as my father. As I approached her, she got on her knees and begged for her life. I drowned her words out of my ears. I was not going to listen to anything she had to say. When I swung the axe at her, she dodged it and crawled away from me. Then she rose and began to run. Soon, she was out of breath. That was when I caught her. She sat on the floor weeping. I almost let her go from seeing how pitiful she looked, but I remembered that she was the enemy. If I let her go, then she would definitely call the police on me. I rose the axe and whacked her until I couldn't do it any longer. I
remember seeing the blood seep through the carpet. It bothered me at first, but I got over it.

I still had Mike to go. He was hiding somewhere in the house. I didn't know where, but I knew I heard a door close somewhere near. I decided to check upstairs. The first place I checked was the bathroom. For some reason, the door was locked. He had to be in there. I chopped the door down until I could reach the lock. I heard him begin to scream. I let myself in and grinned at him. "Now who has all the power?" I asked.

I nearly burst out into laughter when I saw his expression. He normally looked challenging and scary, but now his complexion resembled that of a three year old. "The police will be here any minute now," Mike threatened. I didn't take that threat seriously, but I should have. I burst out into laughter. He looked more frightened than I had ever seen him in my life. I wanted to play with his mind for a while. After a few more retorts, I grew tired of him and decided to kill him. I rose the axe, but a gunshot stopped me from bringing it on his head. The police had arrived, and I was going to go to jail. Mike ended up living, and I ended up in an asylum. For four years, they had me locked in the asylum. I was going to be coming home, and I was determined not to get into any more trouble. Little did I know that it would not be accomplished.

When my doctor took me to the house, I gazed at the house of dark memories. The house that was full of tragedy and would have more. I immediately began to remember the past. I began to remember how I savagely mutilated my parents and attempted to murder my brother. I don't know why he forgave me. Maybe it eas because he knew that I was temporarily insane. After the tragic incident, a family adopted him and lived on the estate. The estate was now in his name, and so was everything else. I never said that I regretted killing my parents. Until Mike was old enough to take care of the estate, they would live with him. Now, they would have an extra family member in the house. My heart thudded. What if these people treated me like my last parents? Would it end up in there demise also? I shuddered at the idea and thought of something else.

When I stepped out of the car, Mike was on the porch to greet me. My new "parents" were also on it. The people seemed nice and different from my real parents. I would probably like this home better than the last one. They both
offered a smile and told Mike to get my bags. Mike did as he was told and then showed me my room. It was just the type of room I wanted. They asked me what my size was in clothes, and I told them all the information needed. I was definitely excited when they told me where I was getting my clothes from. It was a very expensive store. None of my clothes had ever been over five dollars. I was amazed. My perfect life would soon change, and history would soon repeat itself.

The next day, my new parents woke me up with a bag. I knew there was a bunch of clothes in there. What type of clothes did they get me? That was the question that kept coming across my mind. I was disappointed to see the same cheap four dollar clothing that was too little for me. "This isn't my size," I told them.

They seemed angered by this statement. Their looks of happiness turned to scowls of anger. "You will wear whatever we buy you," the man said. I couldn't believe the words that came out of their mouths. They were turning into the same parents my deceased ones were. At that moment, I saw a spirit of my old father. The gash in his head had not stopped flowing blood. "They do not deserve to live," he said.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. He was telling me to kill them. I was tempted to do so. I hesitated before acting. Do I want to go to that stupid mental asylym again? I really wanted to stay away from them, so I decided not to. I told them how sorry I was for making that statement, but they still made me clean the garage. I did not deserve this. Why was I in this garage cleaning? I had done nothing wrong.

My mother's spirit appeared. "You cannot let them do this to you," she said.

For a moment, I decided to take her advice. I had then realized that destiny wanted me to kill again. If I kept refusing these homicidal urges, then it would result in permanent insanity. The spirits would haunt me forever unless I killed them. "Leave me alone," I ordered.

She disappeared and I became relieved. I hoped that I didn't have to worry about that any longer. I was wrong about that. For several nights, I recieved nightly visitations from them encouraging me to kill them. I refused constantly, but they came back every night. Finally, I decided to just go on ahead and do it.

On the day of the tragedy, my new father had left to go to work. Mike was in school. I had yet to be enrolled in it. It was only me and her in the house. I figured that this was my perfect chance to murder her. I took the axe that I wielded before, and I headed towards the kitchen. She heard me, and she spun around. She cried out and ducked when I swung at her. She ran through the house and up the stairs. She decided to go in the bathroom. She locked the door and sobbed in a corner. I used the axe to get in the bathroom. When I gained an entry in there, she was almost out the window. I ran down the stairs and out of the front door. I stood below the bathroom window and waited for her to jump. Then, I saw her body fall from the roof. She luckily landed on her feet. Unfortunately, I was there to impale her. I immediately decapitated her.

Next, my new father came just in time for lunch. He caught me while I was digging the body. He lunged at me, but I was surprisingly stronger than him. I retrieved the axe and swung at him. He did not die without a fight. Actually, he almost lived. When we struggled, I pushed him off of me. He recovered and lunged at me again. I used the axe as a shield, and it actually worked. He lunged right on top of it. The blade went through his flesh, sending a geyser of blood. He immediately became limp. As the last time, Mike came home and survived the bloodbath. I was taken back to the asylum. This time, I was not going to get out so early. Every night, I wonder if I should try to escape. Most of the time, it is because my parents tell me to. Soon, I will escape. When I do, all hell will break loose.

© 2000 Rickie Burney