Untitled Story...

[swiftdeath]

(Just wondering what comments/criticisms people have on this short story I wrote a while back out of boredom...)


“Wake up,” A loud voice boomed throughout the small two room, two story house which a set of twins shared with their parents, a quiet and reserved mother and a loud and unruly father. The house was basically on its last leg, just barely remaining on top of the small hill and looking as though one small hurricane might knock it over. On the lower floor there was a small kitchen, big enough for only one a couple of people to be in at one time, and a living room which contained four pieces of shabby and worn furniture: a small loveseat with sickly puke green fabric with a few springs sticking out of one of the cushions and the fabric torn in a thousand different places, two chairs with cushions on the seats that matched the same green of the couch and dark burgundy wood, the legs of the chairs were scratched and mangled and looked as though if they were sat in just once more they would fall to pieces, and in the center of this mangled furniture sat a small coffee table made of the same wood in the chairs which actually looked little nicer than most of the other items in the room. This coffee table was their mother’s only possession that she had kept when they moved into this house. She took extremely good care of it, seeing as how it used to belong to her mother and she had hoped to pass it on to the girl in the set of twins when she moved out of this house. A lamp sat on the floor and reached a few feet off of the floor. The lamp was made of some type of dark metal and was bent slightly to one side. This was the only light in the living room and occasionally had to be moved to the kitchen. Inside of the kitchen sat a small stove with a range on top, both a deep black and looking about ten years older than the house itself. A small refrigerator sat on top of one of the three counters in the kitchen and contained nothing more than a couple apples from a tree in their yard and a small black pitcher filled with water that they had gotten from a small well nearby. Upstairs sat two rooms and a single bathroom, separating all of these rooms with a long hallway, which was darker than any other room in the house. In the room which the twins stayed in sat two small lamps, each on the floor, and two mattresses which were also on the floor. The lamps were both a dark black and had no lamp shades over them while the mattresses were a dingy brown, stained from years of use, with a few springs sticking out on the sides. Two deep blue blankets were on top of the mattresses, their only blankets for each night. The other room contained two mattresses as well, both pushed together to create a makeshift bed for the less than happy couple. One brown lamp, also without a lampshade, rose about a foot from the ground. Inside the bathroom was, as there always is, a small tub, a sink, and a toilet. There was no light in the bathroom and often times the twins would carry their lamps into the bathroom with them. The girl of the two twins woke first. Her dark blonde hair was tangled into thick knots which would have taken a few years to undo. Her dark green eyes stared lifelessly around the small room which she shared with her twin brother. “Get up!” The voice shouted again. The girl threw back her covers and stood up. Her outfit was a pair of black shorts, worn with age, and a dark blue shirt. She walked over to where her brother was sleeping and carefully shook him. “Kyn,” She said quietly, “Someone’s calling us.” His dark green eyes slowly blinked open and looked at her. “Who?” He asked, his voice muffled from under his blanket. She shrugged her shoulders and looked at him. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. His outfit was a pair of blue jeans with holes worn in the knees, and a black shirt, which the sleeves had been cut off of. “Kane, do you honestly not know who it is?” He asked her. She nodded, “Let’s just get up and figure it out.” They slowly walked toward the door of their room and peeked out into the dark hallway, a little frightened. “Come here,” The voice boomed again. They did as they were told and walked down to where their parent’s room was inside of the house. A sheet was pulled over a figure in the bed and a tall shadow stood beside it. They grabbed onto each other’s hands and waited to hear what the shadow needed to say to them. “Do you know what’s happened?” It asked as it turned around, showing a tall man with scraggly brown hair and blue eyes that seemed to glow in the dark, their father. They both shook their heads in perfect unison, as they usually did. “Go back to bed,” He snarled at them. They took his advice and ran back to their room, quickly lying down on the mattresses and pulling their blankets up over their heads, trying to sleep. He muttered something under his breath and laid one large hand on top of the blanket. The dark brown blanket had deep crimson stains all over it, some fresh and some old from past encounters. He jerked back the sheet and looked at the figure that lay underneath. It was a woman with fair skin and dark blonde hair. Her dark green eyes gazed up at the ceiling, her face twisted in an expression of extreme terror. Crimson stains ran down her cheeks and down onto her dark green dress. A single bullet hole was in her forehead, which explained where the crimson had come from on the sheet and on her body. This was the twin’s own mother, the only thing that they cherished in their lives. Their father was a drunkard and usually spent all of their money on liquor of the highest quality, never food or clothing which explained everyone’s worn down clothes. A single shotgun rested on the floor, their father’s only possession from when they moved. He picked it up and cocked it back, walking down the hallway. He had just enough bullets to get rid of the problem, the twins. In his eyes they were the problem, and if they were gone then he would have more money to himself and he wouldn’t have to think about feeding anyone but himself. Their mother had simply gotten in the way so he had annihilated her to get to them. He entered the room and looked at the two mattresses, seeing both of the twins huddled beneath their blankets and waiting. He smirked; his teeth a dank and rotten yellow, and crooked as well. He raised the shotgun and aimed it at the top of one of the mattresses, quickly shooting and cocking the gun again and doing the same with the other. A grin of satisfaction spread across his face as he saw the dark crimson spread on the blankets. He jerked them both back and looked at the twins. Each looked as though they were sleeping, except for the dark crimson holes in their foreheads and the deep crimson liquid still running down their faces. They looked peaceful enough, with small smiles on their faces from the pleasant dreams they must have been having and their eyes closed tightly. He sighed, yet his hands were still shaking? He looked bewildered, shouldn’t this be over? He had succeeded in his mission, yet something remained. What had he done? He found himself doubting everything and the next thing he new he had the gun cocked back again, raised to his own forehead, and one finger on the trigger. A few seconds later he was on the ground, the shotgun clutched in his hand. Now he had the mark which had signified the death of the others, the crimson hole in the middle of his forehead. His eyes staring up at the ceiling as if in disbelief of what he himself had just done when he was so sure of it only a few seconds before.

[Zero]

No offense intended but. . .

when the first sentence is as torturous as this:

"“Wake up,” A loud voice boomed throughout the small two room, two story house which a set of twins shared with their parents, a quiet and reserved mother and a loud and unruly father."

I stop reading instantly. . .

[Posher778]

Agreed, re write some of the dialogue/edit.

[swiftdeath]

Originally posted by Zero
No offense intended but. . .

when the first sentence is as torturous as this:

"“Wake up,” A loud voice boomed throughout the small two room, two story house which a set of twins shared with their parents, a quiet and reserved mother and a loud and unruly father."

I stop reading instantly. . .

Ha! That's what I thought, but everyone else said it was good. That's the last time I listen to people. Thanks.

[The Flayed One]

Most people have trouble reading long posts in the first place. At least break your post down into paragraphs. It's a lot less daunting. Trust me, you'll get a LOT more readers.