Divine Silver Bullet (Short story)

Essay by portafortunaJunior High, 7th gradeA, June 2009

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With his glacial rage, Magnus slammed his tortured fist into the slick walls of his chamber. Echoes raced threw the room, first it being the sound of the water dripping off the stony walls, like tears from angels softly crying. Cruel giggles of the visions were followed by his stifled whimper, trying to ignore his throbbing hand. He tried to calm himself. Pacing around like some pendulum, swingly trying to soothe himself, he tried to get his mind of it. But his body ached. A throbbing and needle pricking sensation was all over, and the weight of the air seemed to increase by a tenth fold. Every time his chest expanded, elephants seem to parade on it, and with every breathe more and more elephants were invited. Bending over like a crippled man, he held his knees tight as he slowly lowered himself on his maroon Victorian leather sofa. The room with substantial darkness, seemingly very empty and still, seemed to be pulsating with furies.

Only two hazel glassy eyes could be seen, darting side to side, occasionally staring into the absence, fear and evil clouding these windows to the soul. Each session of divine evil, torturing the pure soul of this man, redefining the purpose of his spirit, seemed to shatter the vase of his brilliance. These eyes were eyes of a fearful man, huddled away in a corner. Heavy shallow breathes filled the soundless room. But for this man, the room was everything but silent. It was filled with horror; the giggles and mockery of ghosts. It was November, the mourning moon was out, a time of terror and fear for some, and a time of glorious pleasure for the ghosts.

Magnus was scared. His body was shaking, sweat rolling down his freezing aching body, like a boiling pot. With the squeaky sound of his leather sofa, he slowly turned around, clutching his knees like a child, rocking back and forth. The chamber was vivid and dynamic, speeding up his heart to the point where it would explode from pressure. Magnus was loosing his logical perception of the world, falling into a deep trance of fear and paranoia.

Whimpers and sobs filled the room, with disoriented speech crowning the orchestra of sounds.

“Teehee their all out for you dummie! For you, doo boo!! You’re a dumb fool, and now its too late, so why don’t you just end it off right away? Hes over there anyway” Magnus recognized the voice, the voice of the obsessive ghost who had been his guest for many years. Heaving himself out of the sofa, he grabbed his knife and searched for the spy. His sharp eyes seemed to pierce threw the elegant wood furniture of the chamber. Second hardly died when he found his foe, the man who has been contemplating a sadistic way to torture Magnus. He stood right in front of the man, who’s coal black eyes seem to glitter with fear, like the stars outside in the full moon.

A deep satisfactory grin began to spread across Magnus’ face, his eyes sparkling with lust. He lustful eyes fixated on the stranger, he slowly observed the stranger, his fine knife caressing the mans cheeks, moving towards the kin and down the neck. The man was terrified. Not a muscle dared to twitch, even his heart seemed to have stopped, hoping that this was just a demonic nightmare. He swallowed a gulp of fear. A slicing pain forced the man to double over, holding his chin like a new born child, with much care. The moon rays shone threw a little window, lightening up the gruesome man in front of him, a man who chuckled in delight at his site. He could feel droplets of blood trickle down his neck onto his chest, his revived heart pounding hard against that chest. In front of that man, stood Magnus who’s chuckles had gone away. A cold daze filled the emptiness. His face was pale like the demons eyes, his black hair making him shine like a bright star. His handsome features seemed to have vanished. Magnus looked into his victims fearful eyes, stifling a chuckle, when his pushed the man onto the floor. The poor man took up with the courage and began to fight back. He kicked and hit, occasional biting anything that was in distance. They wrestled around, fighting over the knife, like two siblings fight over a toy car. Out of the light they rolled out, only the sound of fists colliding and a low howl of the wolves outside.

All of the sudden a loud cry could be heard, and a quiet gushing sound. Pleased with the fact that he finally killed his enemy Magnus stood up, looked at the mingled body of the man. He smiled when he looked at that man, with those dark eyes and blonde hair. He looked around, noticing that only the bookcase had thrown over, and pieces of paper were lying all around. He looked back at his priceless experience. The man with his dead eyes, lay quiet comfortable on the hard stone floor. Books were scattered around, like bird seeks. One particular book lay on the man chest, soaking in the mans blood. Magnus began to feel his heavy eyelids, and threw himself onto the sofa, and sleep for now. “Tomorrow ill take care of everything” he said out loud, for whatever reason“You’re still a dead man mag!” Yelled the voice for the last timeSeveral days later, after the famous writer Magnus Leonate seemed to have been swallowed by the earth, his sister Crystal decided to go to his house, to check if he needed everything. Instead of a welcoming home, she was greeted by a cold tactless policeman who seemed to have eaten too many donuts in his life. She froze in horror when she was shown the chamber, disgusted by the sight, but at the same time unable to look away from the sight. On the floor, sprawled was her brother Magnus, this a whole in his chest, covered by a bloody book. The rest of the books were spread across the room to make circle almost, encircling the dead body of the prominent representative of eccentricsism, Magnus Leonate.