My mouth was completely dry after a night of heavy drinking so as soon as I got home I headed to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. I chugged it down and poured myself another. Inbetween sips I tried to clear my mind enough to decide whether to take a shower or not, but seeing as that didn't work, I decided to just go to bed without even brushing my teeth. The booze got the best of me.
I half opened my eyes when I thought I heard something in the kitchen. It sounded like someone was handling the cutlery inside the drawer. It was the middle of the night and I came home alone so I brushed it off as my mind playing tricks on me. I readjusted my blanket and made myself cozy. I really needed some sleep.
I was sprung awake by the sound of the fridge doors. They make a distinct, loud noise when you open them. It was at this point that it became clear to me. There was someone else in my apartment.
The fridge door closed.
My mind, still heavily impaired by alcohol, was racing between every possible explanation. I realised I didn't recall locking the door when I got home. I could feel chills going down my spine and droplets of sweat beginning to form on my forehead. I sat myself straight and felt my heart pounding in my chest at speeds far above normal.
Although it felt like I got sober in a split second, it became obvious I was still intoxicated when I tried to stand up only to find myself back on my rear end a split second later. I reached for the nightstand's drawer, threw the insides on my bed and removed its bottom to finally grab ahold of my pistol.
I shook my head left and right to try and get myself together then leaned onto the nightstand to catch balance as I stood up and made my way toward the kitchen. I tried my best not to make too much noise as I wobbled out of my bedroom not to alert whoever is in the kitchen. I kept the lights off for the same reason and relied solely on my memory of the apartment to navigate through pitch black rooms.
Right by the kitchen door I knocked over a lamp, shattering it. Not even a second later I heard a knife drop on the floor. The sound of steel on ceramic tiles propelled the blood through my veins.
In panic, I fired my pistol until pressing the trigger produced nothing more but blank sounds.
I heard the glass shattering inbetween individual shots, and I heard a body hit the floor.
I switched on the lights only to be greeted by a body of no other than my best friend George.
His mouth open, his eyes staring into the distance.
I had killed my best friend.
We were out partying together when I left at 2 am and he decided to stay a little longer. He needed a place to crash, so naturally I offered mine. Seeing as the door wasn't locked, he didn't ring the bell and just helped himself inside.
Judging by the jar of jam on the table and the piece of toast on the floor, he must've been hungry when he made it here. Probably didn't turn on the lights not to wake me up. When I knocked over the lamp it must've scared him and he dropped the knife.
The pieces of the puzzle were all coming back to me now.
The cutlery, the fridge, the lights.
But I couldn't live with what I've done.
I walked back to my bedroom with tears filling up my eyes to get another magazine.
Then loaded the pistol one last time.
I turn your ideas into stories, so please leave them in the comments.
- #1 - Living off the grid
- #2 - A dolphin tea party
- #3 - A young thief
- #4 - An unlucky chain of events
- #5 - The power of positivity
- #6 - A blind date
- #7 - The gian depressed onion
- #8 - A traitor from hell