I haven't posted in ages, and believe me I feel awful about it. But I'm just finding it so hard to write at the moment. Well, anyway, here is a piece of writing that I have struggled through. I'm not feeling too pleased about it but I would like you to read it despite that. Maybe you can give me a few tips as to where I should take it next. Just a hint, it's based on Bluebeard and The Bloody Chamber.
Mark De Sade
Mark De Sade
I sat on Mark’s bed awkwardly. I had never been in a boy’s room before. It had blue wallpaper with clothes all over the floor, school books thrown on the desk, and a poster of a girl just wearing a lacy thong. I now regretted wearing the plain white knickers that I had had for years.
I waited for a couple of minutes before checking my watch; Mark was taking forever considering he was only getting drinks. I got off the bed and wandered around the room. I peeked in his wardrobe and nosed at some of his school books. He was not doing too well at Trigonometry - all D’s. I scanned the rest of his books on a small shelf, not that there were many. I picked a footballer’s autobiography off the shelf and another book came out with it. It landed with a thud.
I picked up the book; it looked like a scrap book, although I didn’t imagine Mark was very creative. I turned the book in my hands and one of those old Polaroid types of photographs fell to the floor. A photo of Amber. I scowled; this was probably a scrap book she made for Mark on Valentine’s Day or something. Irritated, I opened the book.
The page was covered in photos of a busty blond with a dazzling smile on her face. Mark’s ex-girlfriend, Vicky. Her name was written in pen at the top of the page along with the date 27th August. I remembered her distantly. Mark had gone out with her for ages a few years back; they were the ‘It Couple’. But I guess they weren’t that great together as he dumped her and she changed schools instantly. I ran my hands through my shoulder length brown hair, would Mark like it better if I was blond? Absently, I turned to the next page. There were more photos of Vicky. But in these photos she was dead. Her body was naked, mutilated, and covered in blood.
I dropped the book in shock and stifled a scream. I closed my eyes but I could still see Vicky’s disfigured corpse in front of me. I counted to ten before looking back at the book.
It had fallen open to another page. These photos were of a girl I had never seen before. Joanna was written at the top along with 20th May. She was wearing a tight bikini and had sun bleached hair with beautifully tanned skin.
I didn’t want to know what was next but I couldn’t stop myself. My hand shaking, I knelt down and cautiously flicked the page over. Joanna’s skin was now a deathly grey and her hair was matted with blood from all the cuts on her face. I leapt away from the book as if Joanna’s massacred corpse was decaying in Mark’s bedroom. I lay on the floor, breathing quickly, my hands covering my face. After a moment I sat up.
My heart racing, I looked back at the book, trying not to see the photos. With a quick glance at the bedroom door I turned the page once more.
Amber 14th March.
Amber’s beautiful face stared up at me from the photos; her auburn hair curling around her freckled face and her mouth frozen in the perfect smile.
My heart stopped. The 14th of March was only last week. The day before Mark asked me out. Thinking about it, I hadn’t seen Amber in a while. That’s when it hit me. These dates were the day they died. The day Mark killed them.
I dreaded to see what was on the next page but I couldn’t control myself. I reached for the book when I heard a creak on the stair. He was coming back. I snatched the book off the floor, shoved it back on the shelf along with the footballer’s autobiography, and leapt onto the bed. Mark opened the door just as my head hit the pillow.
‘Hey, we only had water, hope that’s okay,’ he said as he entered the room. He stopped as he noticed me lying on his bed breathing quickly. ‘Are you alright?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine. Just thirsty.’ I sat up and took a glass of water from him. As I drank I saw him looking at something on the floor.
The photo of Amber that had fallen from the book.
My glass slipped from my fingers with a crash.
‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry.’ I sprang from the bed and headed for the door. ‘I’ll just get some tissues.’
‘It’s fine, it’s just water,’ Mark said as he grabbed my wrist. I stopped suddenly, unsure about what was going to happen. He led me back to the bed and sat me down. He then stood in front of me.
‘You’re really pretty, did you know that?’ he asked. I shook my head dumbly. He gave me one of his lopsided smiles, more predatory than it was charming. ‘You really are. Would you mind if I took some photographs of you?’
My heart stopped as Mark reached under his bed and pulled out an old Polaroid camera. I tried to get off the bed but he shoved me back down.
‘I think on the bed will do.’
Before I could move again he snapped a picture of me. After it was printed he looked at the photo.
‘Try not to look so terrified this time,’ he said as he took another photo.
I lay on the bed, my whole body tense. I smiled tersely as Mark aimed his camera at me. I looked about the room. He was stood too close to the door; if I was to run he would definitely catch me. I could try the window. We were on the first floor, but I would rather risk broken legs rather than death. But how did I even know if the window was unlocked.