Organized by Collection
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Ever since Jeff the Killer had left his home many years ago, no one had dared go near his old house. Not even the police. Therefore, the bodies of his parents and his brother, Liu, had been untouched, decomposing, rotting away in the house that was once so happy. Now it reminded the town of nothing but what had happened all those years ago.
Jeff was 19 years old when he happened upon the house again. He had been killing people nationwide, and travelled wherever the flow of blood would take him. Today it lured him back to the neighborhood. He saw the house he once lived in. "Well well WELL!" he said, somewhat surprised. "If it isn't my old home!" He ran to the door and opened it, and called into the house, "Hi mommy! Hi daddy! I'm home!" He laughed, knowing no living human being was still in the house. All of his old electronics and drawings were still scattered on the floor. His homework assignments from when he was in the hospital were on the dining room table collecting dust. W
Switching Places - Part Two
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Slamming the decaying wooden door shut behind him, I focused with concerned eyes as Stephano deliberately slid down to the floor, panting heavily.
"I knew you were telling me to go the wrong way!" Stephano exclaimed, clasping me tightly in his clenching fingers, squeezing my fragile being.
"I'm sorry Stephano! I'm sorry. . . " I murmured as he stood, regaining his breath and clearly ignoring me as he placed his golden scimitar away, causing me to whine.
"Aw, come on, be a bro Stephano.." I complained as he continued to ignore me even further, stretching his long limbs above his head tiredly.
"Stephanooo. . . " I pressed on, my small voice desperate as I tried to capture the Frenchman's attention.
He shook his head as he began walking again, finally tuning me in to capture what I was saying, "Just don't make a noise. . ."
I complied, keeping my mouth quiet as we continued adventuring. Stephano carried me for what seemed like hours that were, in reality, only slow passing minutes as we w